


Tumblr fics

by RebaK1tten



Category: Criminal Minds, Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Baby, But not Stiles and Peter, Drunk Stiles, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Gen, Halloween, Homophobic Language, Kidnapping sort of, M/M, Making Up, Misunderstandings, Mourning, Mpreg, Noah trolls his son, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pet Names, Pre-Slash, Pregnant Peter, Secret Boyfriend, Temporary Character Death, Unwell Stiles/Unwell Peter, Vampire Stiles, alpha pack, and their kids - Freeform, bit of chris/derek, bit of daddy kink, bit of erica/boyd, breath play, erotic asphyxiation, men in panties, mention of derek/braeden, so maybe Peter kidnaps a baby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2018-07-10 10:35:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 22,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6980857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebaK1tten/pseuds/RebaK1tten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These are little things I posted on Tumblr, where I'm Rebakitt3n. Generally trying to do the five minute fic challenge, although most took more than five minutes.</p><p>They are all one-shots and I don't have any plans to continue any of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pack Picnic

“Stiles, I’m not sure why you’re so panicked. It’s just a picnic.”

“It’s not just a picnic, it’s the first time the new Hale and McCall packs are socializing,” Stiles snips back.

“We’ve already signed our treaty and for god’s sake, you and Scott are actually friends. Calm down, you’re making me anxious.” Peter tries to take the sting out of his words by nipping on his mate’s neck.

“Stop it, you’re distracting me,” Stiles answers, but he tilts his head so Peter can continue nuzzling. “And no leaving marks; that would be very uncouth today.”

The wolf snorts in his ear and says, “Couth, you’re the picture of couth.”

“Hey, guys! Ready to party?” Erica crows as she and Boyd push their way into the kitchen.

“Getting there,” Stiles says. He looks at the bags they’ve carried in and points at one. “What’s that?”

“Potato salad,” Erica says, pulling out a large plastic tub. “My assignment.”

“Home made,” Stiles says. “It’s supposed to be home made, dammit.”

Boyd grins and says, “You’ve met Erica, right?”

“Alpha, this is okay, isn’t it?” she asks, rubbing her face against Peter’s.

“Fine by me, but you know we’re dealing with Julia Child here,” he replies with a shrug.

“Like McCall’s going to fry chicken himself?” Erica says. She goes to grab for a cookie and Stiles slaps her hand with a spatula.

“Someone has to keep up standards here,” Stiles answers. “Boyd, you’ve got all the grill stuff?”

“On it,” he replies. “Burgers and dogs are in the cooler in the car.”

“Okay, let’s talk about what can go wrong.”

Peter smiles and shakes his head. “My mate and our emissary, everyone.”

 


	2. Panties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter purchases things online. Stiles likes it.

 

“Well this is a pleasant surprise.”

Peter just hums and says, “It’s amazing what you can find on the internet.”

“I’d say so,” Stiles says, and walks around the wolf again. He glances up, making eye contact because it’s polite, but it’s difficult to tear his eyes away from his mate in his new, blue lacy panties. “They match your eyes.”

“Why I bought them,” Peter answers. “There were a lot of colors. I didn’t think white or pink would suit me. Red was in the running. I did get a pair of black as well.”

“Really? That might be interesting later.” Stiles stops behind him cupping Peter’s ass with one large hand. “Your ass is so…round. So very round.”

Peter looks over his shoulder and smirks at the boy’s drugged look and the smell of his arousal that’s only getting stronger. “Funny, I think the same thing about your ass. Want to try on the black pair?”

“We’ll both be in panties?” Stiles asks, pulling Peter in for a long kiss.

“Not for very long,” Peter answers.


	3. Roger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Stiles get a dog

“Oh, look! Pupper dogs!” Stiles drops Peter’s hand and hurries over to the row of kennels outside the pet food store that they never go to. Because they have no pets. Because domestic animals do not like Peter.

Peter follows at a much slower pace and scans the cages, looking at the cats and small dogs in stacked cages and a couple of larger dogs in portable kennels. There’s two women working for the animal adoption agency, with a sign saying “Senior Adoption Days!”

“Peter, look at this guy, isn’t he handsome?” Stiles asks, sitting on the ground outside one of the kennels. The dog he’s talking about is medium sized, black and white with a bit of gray around his muzzle. He looks like a combination of pit bull and some type of terrier. And he’s not backing away from Peter or growling or trying to hide like the other animals.

“He looks fine, Stiles,” Peter answers. He takes a step towards one of the cages and a skinny cat arches her back and hisses at him. He snarls back and turns back to his partner.

“I’m surprised that dog is letting you so close, he’s usually pretty reserved,” the woman, Gwen, according to her name tag, says to Stiles.

“He’s a good looking man, very distinguished,” Stiles tells her. “How old is he?”

“He’s ten, so he’s one of our seniors,” she explains, squatting next to him. “He’s a nice guy, but slow to warm up to people. He was with one owner for his whole life and that man had a heart attack and passed. His family wasn’t able to take the dog, so…”

“Oh, that’s so sad.” Stiles holds his hand out to the dog, fingers curled in so the dog can sniff his hand, but isn’t likely to bite off a finger. The dog sniffs him, and gives him a quick lick.

“Wow, that’s not like him,” Gwen says, smiling at Stiles. She glances at Peter and smiles at him, clearly aware that this is a decision for the two of them. As though there’s any decision to be made. Animals do not like Peter and it’s mutual.

“What’s his name?” Stiles asks her.

“Roger. But of course, you could change that if…”

Stiles shakes his head and carefully reaches in between the bars to scratch the dog by his ear. Roger shuts his eyes and lets Stiles scratch him. “No, if he’s been Roger for ten years, he should stay Roger. Peter, come here and look at this dog. Please?”

Peter sighs and kneels next to Stiles, ready for Roger to back up or growl or do something. But Roger just opens his eyes and looks at Peter for a minute and then shuts them again, letting the boy continue to service him.

“He’s not afraid of you,” Stiles whispers. “Or impressed.” He glances at Gwen, who has stepped back, giving them privacy. Probably something they’re taught to do to let prospective pet parents talk. “Do the eye thing,” he orders.

Peter glances around and since no one is looking, he flashes his eyes at the dog. Roger yawns and flops on his side, grunting quietly.

“Wow, that is one unimpressed dog,” Stiles says, leaning over to kiss Peter’s cheek. “What do you think? Don’t you think our apartment is missing a dog?”

“Stiles…” Peter starts.

“Umm, Gwen, how’s his health?”

“Well, he’s doing pretty well for his age. He does have arthritis and has pills for it. He’ll take them in a treat, we push one in a bit of cheese for him,” Gwen says. “They’re not very expensive pills. We have the records from his previous vet and he seems pretty healthy. For his age.” She smiles and shrugs. “You can step over the fence if you want to sit with him.”

Stiles eyes light up as he carefully makes his way into the small kennel, sitting a few feet away from Roger. “How’d you like to go to a new home?” he whispers to the dog, edging closer. Roger’s tail thumps once and he moves his head so Stiles can go back to scratching him.

Stiles grins and says, “Peter, what do you think? He’s nice, and he doesn’t hate you. I mean, you should relate to him, right? Slightly older, cranky and needing a second chance from someone who can see through the gruff exterior?”

“Slightly older? Gruff exterior? You’re not earning any points here,” Peter says, moving closer to the pen. He holds his hand out the same way Stiles did, so the dog can sniff his knuckles. “He’s actually a very mellow dog, isn’t he?”

“I know you respect people who don’t cower in front of you,” Stiles says. He grunts when Roger gets up and drapes himself on his lap.

“Wow, I’ve never seen him take to anyone so quickly,” Gwen says, smiling from outside the pen. “You can go in, too; or we can put a leash on him and let you two take a quick walk with him.” She holds up a leash and smiles encouragingly.

Stiles gently moves Roger off him and eagerly takes the leash. Roger looks up and wags his tail, looking from Stiles to Peter and back to Stiles.  Clearly, they’re both smitten.

“How long has he been here?” Peter asks, moving to undo the small latches on the pen’s gate.

“Three months,” Gwen says, bending down to scratch Roger between the shoulders. “He needs to go home with someone.” She smiles at them both and says, “You can go down the street here and just turn around at the intersection.”

They get half a block away, when Stiles takes Peter’s elbow, leaning his head on the older man’s shoulder. “Please?”

Peter sighs loudly and kisses Stiles’ temple. “Looks like we’ve got a new dog.”

 

 


	4. Newborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is turned by a vampire and (most of) the pack tries to support him.
> 
> This is a one shot, don't know or have plans to continue. It is something I would like to read though.

Stiles kneels on the floor of the loft, with his head in his hands. “Oh, shit, oh shit, what am I supposed to do now?”

“We’ll figure something out, man, don’t worry,” Scott replies. He goes to put a hand on his friend’s shoulder, but pulls back at the last minute.

“Chris, don’t you think you could have mentioned that you were tracking vampires in Beacon Hills?” Derek asks the hunter as he walks in a circle around the boy on the floor.

“I didn’t get a chance and normally, they don’t bother a wolf pack,” Chris answers. “You know that as well as I do!”

“Well, Stiles isn’t a wolf, so is that why he was attacked?” Erica asks. “Or maybe because he’s the Sheriff’s kid? Or because he’s _in_ our pack?”

“I don’t know and right now I don’t care! Fuck, I’m a vampire! What am I supposed to do? I’m supposed to be a human!”

“Keep away from me?” Isaac suggests, shrugging and moving behind Scott. “Dude, you smell funny.”

“He smells dead,” Peter says, coming down the stairs. “That’s kind of what happens.” He puts a hand on Stiles’ shoulder, and pulls him up, pushing Stiles onto the sofa. “So we deal with this. Whatever he is, he’s pack and we take care of our own.”

“Maybe we can turn him back? Isn’t there something… I can ask Deaton,” Scott says, nodding and smiling to Stiles who keeps his head down.

“You can’t unturn him, any more than you can unturn a werewolf. This is his, for lack of a better term, his life now.” Peter sits next to him on the couch and rests a hand on Stiles’ knee. “He’ll need a safe place to sleep, it needs to be dark and isolated; a new vampire isn’t someone you want to wake up suddenly.”

“His house has an attic, how about there?” Scott suggests.

Peter rolls his eyes and says, “How about not around his father when he’s new and not yet under control? Remember when you were a brand new wolf?”

“Besides, the attic has a window,” Derek says, looking around the loft. There’s no way it’s suitable for what Stiles needs.

“He can sleep in my guest room closet. It’s a walk in closet, it’ll fit a mattress on the floor and there’s no window in the closet,” Peter says.

Lydia sits on the other side of Stiles and takes his hand. “That almost sounds like the closet in your room has a window,” she says, trying to get a smile from Stiles.

“Natural light is important,” the wolf replies. “So he has a place to sleep. For food, he can feed off the wolves until he’s learned more control.”

“What?” Boyd asks, pulling Erica back with him. “Umm, not sure if you’ve noticed, but the vampire who got to Stiles drank him dry. And killed him, if you missed that.”

Peter rolls his eyes again and says, “A vampire only needs about a pint every day or so. As a newby, Stiles will want more, but taking a pint from us won’t hurt anyone.” He looks around the room and gives the pack a look. “Best to keep with Derek and me for the first few days until Stiles gets control of his appetite.”

“We’ll all help!” Scott assures Stiles, trying to make eye contact with all the wolves.

“It’s best to start with born wolves,” Peter replies. “Not that it’s not appreciated and I’m sure most of you will be needed. Well, maybe not little Liam for a while - bitten wolf from a bitten wolf? Only when Stiles has better control.”

“And what will you be doing? While I’m sleeping in your closet?” Stiles asks, lifting his head while he clasps Lydia’s hand.

“I’ll be gathering information from the bestiaries and some other places to educate our pack on vampires. So there’s no more – or at least fewer stupid questions. It’ll also help when you wake up and we talk with your father.”

Stiles somehow manages to get even paler. “My father? We need to tell my father?”

Peter sits back and wraps an arm around Stiles’ shoulder, pulling him close so his wrist is in front of the boy’s face. Before anyone can say anything, Stiles locks onto his arm with a quiet moan. Peter grimaces, his eyes flashing before he stills, his face again calm. “This will help calm him; a snack before beddy-bye time. And yes, we’ll tell your father tomorrow. We’ll tell him what happened and that you’ll be fine and it’s being taken care of. He won’t be happy, but he won’t have lost you and that’s the important thing.”

Peter leans over and tugs on Stile’s hair until he loosens his grip enough that Peter can pull his arm away. Standing, the wolf takes a breath and pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket and wipes the blood off his arm.

“Are you okay?” Scott asks Stiles. “That’s kind of a stupid question, I guess, but…”

Stiles nods, not looking up and rubs his hand across his mouth, leaving a dark smear on the back of his hand. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, glancing up at Peter.

“Nothing to be sorry for, you have to eat.” Peter turns to Chris and raises an eyebrow, watching the hunter watch the new vampire.  “Christopher, you’ve been strangely quiet, and that’s generally not a good thing. You’ll continue only hunting those that hunt you?”

Chris snorts and looks around. He’s obviously outnumbered, and his daughter is looking at him with concern in her eyes. “The only thing more dangerous than a feral werewolf during a full moon is a new vampire. They have no control and as you pointed out, they have to eat. They’re not acting based on the moon’s cycle; they act purely on instinct and on hunger.”

“Dad, that’s Stiles. He’s still Stiles,” Allison says, turning to her father.

“It _was_ Stiles. Now it’s dead and dangerous,” Chris replies, crossing his arms.

Everyone talks at once and Peter shuts up the room, talking over everyone’s chatter. “ _He_ is pack and we’ll protect him. Especially since you neglected to give us the information to protect ourselves. Yes, he’s changed, but he’ll learn.”

“When I was just turned, the pack helped me learn to control myself. We can help Stiles.” Liam turns and looks at Peter and shrugs. “What does he need to learn? Who not to eat?”

“That’s an important thing, yes,” Peter answers, smiling at the boy. Maybe he’s worth something after all. “As I said, he can start feeding on the wolves in the pack. From there, we’ll discuss what humans he can feed on.”

Chris shakes his head, and snorts quietly. “Feeding on humans? You think that’s going to make me think he’s less dangerous?”

“There’s people who want to be fed upon,” Lydia tells the group. “It’s basically a fetish population, but if they both consent, I don’t think that’s anyone’s business.”

Peter sits back down next to Stiles. “Additionally, I don’t think it would be awful if he took a pint from a burglar or wife beater. And if he over feeds on a murderer… why is that a loss to anyone?”

“Who gets to decide who is dinner for Stiles? I don’t think you’re exactly qualified to judge,” Scott says, flashing his alpha eyes at Peter. As though Peter cares. “I liked the idea of him feeding on us wolves; you said it’s a pint every couple of days? We can do that.”

“What about when we go to college and… Oh. Maybe he won’t go to college?” Erica smiles at Stiles and shrugs. “Sorry. Wow are you going to look like a high school kid forever?”

Stiles turns to Lydia, eyes wide. “I am not spending the rest of my immortal life in high school, trying to fit in.”

“No one wants you to recreate ‘Twilight’, dear. We’ll figure out rules for feeding and life in general. At least we have time,” Peter says, looking at Chris. “Assuming Christopher here will give it to us.”

Chris looks from Stiles to Peter and says, “I’ll give you some leeway, but not a lot. It…He needs to be trained and quickly. And after that, if he becomes a danger…”

“After we have the rules worked out and he’s in control enough to understand them, if he messes up,” Peter looks at Stiles for a long moment before he continues, “If he feeds from someone he shouldn’t, or if he kills someone he shouldn’t, I’ll end him myself. And then I’ll find you and you can kill me, too.”  


 


	5. The Wolf and The Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter gets pregnant. 
> 
> Because I'm pretty sure Peter and Stiles switch because Peter's the most adaptable creature around.

Stiles knows that Peter has mood swings. They’ve been living together for five years and after all, he’s a werewolf.  So during the new moon, he’s a little more mellow, cuddly even, and wanting to care for Stiles. Which he’s all in favor of, because Peter is a great cook and makes all of Stiles’ favorites. As the full moon approaches, he gets a little more antsy, up until the actual day (or night) itself, when he’s virtually crawling out of his skin and spends the night in a nearby forest hunting for little bunnies to eat. And horny like you don’t know, which Stiles is also in favor of.

What he’s not used to is coming home with the full moon just a few days away and having a half-eaten animal thrown at his head. Raccoon, if Stiles is right, looking at the body next to the door.

“Hi, honey, you obviously know I’m home. What’s the problem?” he asks, as soon as he dares go further into their living room.

Peter’s facing the door, panting with his fangs dropped. He swallows and says nothing, turning his back on the younger man.

Stiles wraps his arms around the wolf and rests his chin on his shoulder, whispering into his ear. “Hey, come on, talk with me. Are you pissed off with me or just the world or…”

Peter scrubs his hands over his face, and then puts his hands on Stiles’ which are resting on his belly. “Congratulations, dear. I’m knocked up.”

“Oh. Oh, okay,” Stiles says, loosening his grip around Peter. “I expect a lot of unusual things in our relationship, but I gotta say, this one wins. Want to tell me a little more?”

“It’s pretty simple, I think. We fucked during the last full moon and … there’s a baby on the way.” Peter pulls away and drops to the couch, and Stiles can see the worry on his face.

“I have to say, with as much experience as I have with the supernatural world and magic, this is a new one to me. Other than in fan fiction, I didn’t think male pregnancy existed,” Stiles says, sitting on the couch next to Peter. Close enough that Peter can reach out if he chooses, but hopefully not so close he feels smothered. When the moon’s coming up to full, he knows not to be too pushy.  Peter would never intentionally hurt him, but there’s no reason to be stupid.

“This one didn’t come up in your magic research?” Peter asks, with an eyebrow raised. Stiles works at what is called a bookstore, but for those in the know, it’s the place to go for your magical needs.

“Maybe I just never thought to research it because…well who would?”

“There’s three things that need to happen so a male werewolf becomes pregnant,” Peter says, going into lecture mode. “Do you know what those are?”

“Obviously not,” Stiles answers, sitting back on the couch and watching Peter start to pace in front of him.

“First, you have to have sex during the full moon.”

“And we obviously do that every month. Multiple times,” Stiles says, unable to keep the grin off his face. “What else?”

“The male wolf needs to be an omega. You know that wolves want a pack. This is part of the body’s way to try to help build up the pack,” he says, looking out the window of their apartment into the line of trees outside.

“Okay…But you’re really not an omega, you know. We are a part of Scott’s pack. I mean, kind of. I know he thinks of me as his pack and so by extension…”

“Well, apparently my wolf doesn’t agree with that assessment,” Peter snarls back. His hand rubs his stomach and Stiles is pretty sure he doesn’t even realize it.

“What else? Oh and by the way, you’re sure of this? I’m guessing you didn’t pee on a stick and I really would have noticed if you had a period to be missed or something.” Peter shoots Stiles a look that might make another man tremble, but after all their years together, it’s worth a shrug.

“The heartbeat. I thought there was something, but now…I can hear the heartbeat,” Peter answers. He rubs a hand across his eyes and Stiles doesn’t mention how they look glassy, and with anyone else he’d think it’s unshed tears, but it’s Peter. Even if that’s true, he won’t mention it.

“What’s the third thing?” Stiles asks.

Peter’s quiet for a moment and finally says, “The male werewolf needs to have sex with his mate. Only the true mate can create a baby with an omega.”

“Okay…wasn’t that the first thing?” Stiles asks.

Peter shakes his head and says, “Not just anyone, his mate. My wolf thinks you’re my mate.”

Stiles shrugs and says, “Well duh, of course I’m your mate. We’ve been sleeping together since I was 18 and we’ve been living together for five years. When we meet any other wolves, I always say that I’m your mate and you…” He stops and cocks his head, thinking of the few wolves they’ve run into during their time together. “You introduce me as your boyfriend or your partner or something other than mate.” He stands and takes Peter’s shoulder, turning him around to face him. “You don’t think of me as your mate? Well I guess your inner wolfie does!”

Peter shakes his head, cupping Stiles’ face with his warm hand. “Stiles, you don’t know what this means. A mate is for life; it’s forever. It’s no one else. You’re young and you don’t need this.”

“Of course it’s forever, stupid. It’s been forever for me for…well, for as long as we’ve been living together. I don’t just move in with guys willy-nilly you know.” He rubs his face against Peter’s hand, stretching his neck, and smiling when Peter leans forward to run his nose across the exposed skin. “And I’m not a baby, I’m 28. Perfect time to have my first kid.” He takes a step back and says, “I mean, if that’s what you want. If you want the baby, because it’s totally up to you.”

Nodding, Peter says, “Yes, I want this baby. I’ve heard his heartbeat and I want…” he doesn’t finish, just buries his face in Stiles’ neck.

“Good, I want him too. Is it a him, or are you just saying that?” Stiles kisses Peter’s temple and cheek and any other part that’s available to him. He looks over Peter’s shoulder down his back and says, “So how does the baby get out? Because I know how it got in, but…”

“Surgery,” Peter says snorting. “We’ll have to find someone who can do it.”

“I have some contacts from work,” Stiles says, rubbing his face into Peter’s hair. It’s not quite the same scenting as when Peter does it, but they both like it. “Hey, is it okay if I call my Dad? Tell him he’s going to be a grandfather?”

Peter pulls away and says, “Can you wait until morning?”

“Sure. Can I ask why?”

The wolf smiles, taking Stiles’ hand as he leads him towards the bedroom. “Full moon coming up and I want some alone time with my mate.”

“That’s Baby Daddy to you,” Stiles replies, crowding Peter in the hallway.

“Whatever, stud. I’m topping tonight,” Peter tells him.

“Sounds good to me, whatever you want!” Stiles says as he joins his wolf in their bedroom.

 


	6. Meeting Mom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Mother's Day fic. Stiles and Peter at the cemetery with flowers.  
> Kinda sad, I guess, but maybe a little hopeful.

Stiles keeps his hands on the steering wheel while he looks over at his wolf.

He’s sitting in the passenger seat, hands gripping the bouquet of flowers, wrapped in tissue paper.

“So do you want to get out of the car? We don’t have to do this today, Peter. There’s been times when I’ve come here and haven’t gotten out of the car.”

Peter looks over and raises an eyebrow. “Really? I find that hard to believe.”

“Well, the time after Donovan. When I came to tell Mom, I just couldn’t get out and do it.” Stiles looks out the window at the footpath. It’s about ten feet away and you walk on it for just a couple of minutes until, boom, there’s Mom’s grave.

“That wasn’t your fault,” Peter tells him, taking his hand. “You know that.”

“I know, but still.” Stiles shrugs and squeezes Peter’s hand back. “Still felt big.”

“I’m sure. Well, I guess it would feel as big as saying ‘Hi, Mrs. Stilinski! I’m the werewolf who’s banging your son, who is in fact, young enough to be my son!”

Stiles chuckles and says, “Just maybe you can word it a little nicer.  And don’t worry, she’ll be happy that I’m happy. And that you’re a good guy, Peter. I know it’s a secret, but you’re not nearly as awful as people think.”

“Tell anyone and die,” Peter answers, grinning back. “She has to like me more than your Dad. Who has in the past put a gun to my temple.”

“Well maybe if he weren’t introduced to you as my boyfriend by walking in the house and seeing you doing me on the dining room table,” Stiles says, grinning. “It was his Nana’s dining room table, handed down to him. It has great sentimental value.”

Peter grins and says, “Well, so does my head. And I guess it’ll be your dining room table, so at least we’ve christened it.”

“If he doesn’t burn it first.” Stiles puts his hand on Peter’s shoulder and says, “So are we doing this?”

“Sure, let’s. It’s time I introduced myself to your mom.”

 


	7. Cry It Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Stiles try to get their baby to sleep through the night. It's hard on everyone.

“Come on, let’s sit in the living room,” Stiles says, tugging on his Peter’s arm. “We shouldn’t just sit in the hallway.”

Peter sighs and looks up at Stiles from his place on the floor.  He looks at their baby’s room down the hall and looks up at Stiles. “Are you sure this is right, Stiles? He’s still crying.”

“Steven is fine, Peter. He’s been fed, his diaper is clean, he’s fine. This is the right thing to do,” Stiles answers, and sits next to Peter.

“This seems cruel.” He starts to push himself up, saying, “I’ll go check on him.”

“Not yet,” Stiles says, pulling Peter back down next to him. “Doctor Otton said we let him cry for five minutes the first time and then we go in and tell him he’s okay and we did that. So now we let him cry for ten minutes.”

“Doctor Otton is a sadist. And I feel like a monster, can you tell me you don’t feel cruel sitting here listening to our child wail like that?”

Stiles takes a deep breath and twines his fingers through Peter’s. “It’s a proven method, referred to as Ferberizing. And studies have shown that babies who are allowed to cry themselves to sleep like this – slowly and for limited amounts of time – are better able to sleep as adults and have no abandonment issues or anything like that.”

“But what do you feel? In your heart, can you tell me you’re okay listening to Steven cry like that?” Peter asks, pointing down the hall to the bedroom where crying is turning into hiccups and snorts.

He slumps against Peter’s shoulder and shudders out a breath. “Of course not, asshole. This is killing me. I carried Steven for nine months, I felt every time he kicked or rolled over. I knew when he was sleeping and I swear I knew if he was chewing on his fist or chewing on his foot. This is killing me, Peter, but we need to do it because it’s right.”

Peter kisses Stiles’ temple and says, “Thank you. It help that you hate this, too. I’m just that selfish that I appreciate it.”

“That’s because you’re horrible. But hey, listen.”

They both sit quietly for a moment and Peter whispers, “He’s sleeping. Oh my god, he’s finally sleeping.”

Stiles stands and holds out his hand, pulling Peter up. “Okay, this is one night and we’re going to have to keep on doing this. There may be crying tomorrow night and the next night, too, until he’s used to it.”

The wolf buries his face into his mate’s neck and sighs. “I promise to try not to cry if you do.”

“Deal. Now let’s try to get some sleep,” Stiles answers, walking them backwards down the hallway to their bedroom.

“Or not,” Peter says.

“Or not.”


	8. Drunk and Disorderly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a Tumblr post- "we’ve been fucking with no strings attached but i just saw you go upstairs with another guy and im drunk and following you both upstairs to punch the shit out of him"

It’s humiliating is what it is. Humiliating, but still Stiles doesn’t move from his place, slouched down in the front seat of his jeep watching Peter’s apartment building. He shouldn’t be here and he wouldn’t except… except it seemed like a good idea a couple of hours ago, when Peter didn’t answer his phone or his texts and Stiles had a full bottle of bourbon and too much time on his hands.

Now he’s too drunk to drive away and besides, he shouldn’t have to. Maybe Peter’s in trouble and he’ll need help. Probably not, since they worked some magic on the nematon, the city’s been strangely (but pleasantly) quiet. And if Peter does need help, well, he should have thought about that before ignoring text messages and letting Stiles get drunk outside, alone, in the cold, in his jeep.

And he shouldn’t care because they’re nothing to each other. They’re barely pack mates, especially since Stiles is at college and Peter’s a dick and it’s a very nice dick, too. Stiles knows this for a fact, having looked it in the eye more than once and it’s also a really good ride, but that’s it. They’re really nothing to each other, just two ships that bump uglies in the night. Which is good, because Peter’s snarky and mean and way too old and Stiles is young and fresh and maybe just a little or a lot drunk.

And he shouldn’t be outside Peter’s apartment, but maybe he was thinking Peter might show up at his own house and maybe Stiles can get a ride tonight, which is a very good idea.

The window on the jeep doesn’t quite close and Stiles hears Peter’s voice as he comes up the street towards his apartment. He’s ready to get out and jump Peter’s bones, when he sees that he’s with someone. It’s a man, older than Stiles, but younger than Peter. He’s as tall as Peter and blond and he’s handsome, really handsome. Peter’s saying something and laughing and blondie laughs as well and he puts his hand on Peter’s shoulder as they approach the apartment building.

Stiles is out of the jeep before he even realizes it and approaches the pair as Peter pulls out his keys and turns to the door to the lobby.  “Hey! Hey, you Peter you, you you…”

Peter pulls his face back from the flailing, yelling young man. “Dear god, Stiles, your breath smells like a gasoline pump. What have you been drinking?”

He blows a breath into his cupped hand and cringes, then shakes his head and says, “That doesn’t matter, you’re trying to distract me, because you’re all handsome and stuff and you’re with this pretty blond guy – you’re really pretty by the way – and I know you’re going to go upstairs and do stuff. Do the stuffy stuff, aren’t you? Well, that’s… that’s…probably none of my business, but still.”

“I hope he’s not always this drunk, Peter, because that probably wouldn’t be considered consensual,” blond guy says and he’s so familiar with Peter and comfortable and shit and Stiles is going to kick his ass. As soon as blond guy stops moving and the street stops spinning, he’s going to punch him in his pretty blond face.

Peter cocks his head and smiles. “How is someone’s face blond, Little Red?”

Stiles’ jaw drops and he looks between the two men. “Can you read my mind? Fuck, what am I thinking?”

“No, dear heart, you’re very drunk and your limited brain-to-mouth filter seems to have vanished entirely.” Peter wraps an arm around Stiles’ waist, pulling him close and keeping him on his feet. “Devon, this is Stiles, my boyfriend. I promise you, he’s usually not this much of a mess.”

“Wait, wait,” Stiles mutters, pulling away. “I’m your boyfriend? If I’m your boyfriend, why are you going to go fuck this guy?”

Devon laughs and scratches his head. “You are, Peter? You’re as horrible as everyone says you are.”

“Hey! No one talks to my boyfriend like that except me!” Stiles yells, trying to shove Devon who steps aside. Luckily, Peter keeps him from face planting on the sidewalk. “So am I really your boyfriend? I thought we were just fucking.”

“You’re always at my house. I feed you. I buy the DVDs you want to watch. I think there’s a good chance we’re dating and you’re my boyfriend. For better or worse,” Peter tells him, leaning Stiles up against the wall.

“Sounds like it to me. Oh, and your boyfriend is going to wish he were dead tomorrow morning,” Devon says, still chuckling. “So I’m going to let you take him upstairs and I’ll pick up that book later in the week, okay?”

“Yeah, sounds good. Thanks for dinner and thanks for understanding,” Peter says and uses one arm to keep Stiles propped up against the building and the other to give Devon a hug.

“Hands off my boyfriend, you blond demon,” Stiles slurs as he slides down the wall. “He’s _my_ boyfriend. Hey, I have a boyfriend.”

“Aren’t I the lucky one?” Peter says quietly. He pulls Stiles up and over his shoulder to carry him upstairs for several aspirin and a good night’s sleep.


	9. Peter's Halloween Decorations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter's favorite holiday is Halloween and he may have gone overboard with decorating.

“Stiles, dear, come on outside and admire what I’ve done.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and sighs, but that’s just for show. There’s really no problem taking a break from his calculus homework. “Coming, dear,” he calls.

He joins Peter on the lawn of the New and Improved Hale House™ and looks around. “It looks like The Halloween Store threw up out here.”

“I may have gone a little overboard, but this is my favorite holiday,” Peter answers, looking around, proud smile on his face. “See, there’s a skeleton cat being chased by a skeleton dog. And of course, there’s a witch, which is probably a little speciesist, but still. We have a scarecrow and then there’s the cemetery.”

“It’s all very nice, Peter. Peter. Sweet’ums. Is, um, is the scarecrow supposed to be bleeding?” Stiles asks, stepping over a dismembered baby. “Peter, this guy is bleeding!”

“He’s fine,” Peter says, giving a quick glance as he arranges some orange lights over a bush. “Barely scratched.”

“Help me. Please help me,” the boy on the pole whispers.

“Peter Francis Hale! You come here right now and take this man down!” Stiles orders and then stamps a foot for emphasis. “Right now!”

Peter sighs and lifts uses one hand to lift the scarecrow and put it (almost) gently on the ground. “There. He’s fine, he was just learning a little life lesson.”

Stiles kneels next to the boy, taking off the ties that bound his arms to the cross bars. He pulls the bits of straw from around his neck and wrists. “Are you okay? I can call an ambulance.”

“He’s fine, I told you. He’s barely bruised, just a little scared. The bloody nose, he did himself, trying to run away.” Peter shrugs and leans over the boy and says, “You’re okay, aren’t you, my friend?”

“Yes, sir, I’m fine, I’m fine!” the man says and Stiles looks at him closer.

“Hey, I know this guy! This is the guy...”

“Yes, this was the guy who kept knocking you down at last Friday’s lacrosse game.  We had a nice little discussion about sportsmanship and unprofessional conduct, didn’t we?” Peter says, looking down at the boy, who is still shaking on the ground. Peter hands Stiles a bottle of water and watches as his partner helps him take a sip.

Stiles grabs Peter by the arm and pulls him a few steps away, narrowly avoiding tripping over a zombie crawling out of his grave. “Peter, seriously? Even if he doesn’t go to the hospital, he’s going to tell people. People like the police and in case you’ve forgotten, that includes my father, the Sheriff.”

“Of course I remember your father, Stiles. But our friend here isn’t going to tell anyone.” Peter kneels on the ground next to the shaking lacrosse player and lets his eyes glow bright blue. “When you leave here, what are you going to do, boy? Do you think you can keep our conversation private? Or are you going to go and tell your parents and the police? Tell them how snide you were when we first met and then how scared you were? How you cried and pooped your pants like a scared little baby?”

Stiles shakes his head and mutters, “Oh, come on, Peter, don’t be mean.”

“I won’t tell anyone, I promise,” the boy on the ground says, shaking his head and shaking all over. “I promise, just please, _please_ let me go!”

“And the next time your team plays the Cyclones?” Peter asks, lifting the boy’s head up with two clawed fingers.

The boy stammers, spittle in the corner of his mouth, “We won’t touch any of them, we’ll… we’ll forfeit!”

“No need for that,” Peter whispers. “Play your little game, just make sure to avoid my Stiles. You can hit the others on the field. Hit Isaac Lahey, I’m okay with that. But don’t hit Stiles again, do you understand.”

“Yes, yes, I understand!”

“Yes, what?” Peter asks quietly.

“SIR! Yes, sir, yes, sir!” the boy shouts.

Peter hands him one of the ties that bound him to the scarecrow pole and says, “Wipe your nose and get out before I change my mind. Remember our conversation, my friend.”

Stiles and Peter stand and watch him run down the path that will eventually lead him to the road back into town. “Hmm, now we have no costume for the scarecrow. I’ll need to stop at Goodwill or something tomorrow,” Peter says, adjusting one of the tombstones that was knocked down when the boy ran.

“You’re such a freak, Peter,” Stiles says, grinning as he bumps shoulders with the wolf.

“I love you, too. Happy Halloween.”

 

 


	10. Autumn Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And remember, dear, not everything needs to be pumpkin pie flavored.

“Sit, sit,” Stiles orders, pushing Peter onto the dining room chair and placing a plate in front of him. “Voilà. Autumn cheeseburgers.”

“Hmm, they look good,” Peter says, lifting the bun and taking a sniff. “They smell…different. What’s the secret?”

Stiles sits, and squirms in his chair, shoving a sweet potato in his mouth. “Autumn, Peter! It’s a delicious  autumn dinner!”

Peter takes a potato and chews it carefully watching Stiles twitch as he watches him. “These are very good,” he says, nodding and taking another bite.

“America’s Test Kitchen! I followed the recipe exactly and they’re good aren’t they?”

“And the burgers?”

“My own creation,” he says and takes a bite of his burger.

Peter smiles as Stiles’ face goes from happy to confused to slightly concerned. “It’s good,” he says, looking at his food. “Sort of.” He shifts in his seat and takes a large drink of his iced tea. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re very twitchy and I’m not sure if pumpkin pie flavored hamburgers are a good idea.” Peter eats another fry and tilts his head, sniffing again. “What’s wrong with you, you seem…you’re not happy and you’re uncomfortable. And you smell strange.”

“Gee, thanks. I, um, had some extra seasoning mix and so I experimented a little more. I thought maybe pumpkin pie spiced lube would be good? So I tried some,” he says. And shifts again. “It was a little…weird. Kinda sandy? So I tried some and it was…”

“Warm?” Peter supplies and tries not to grin. He knows that Stiles isn’t in pain exactly, no matter how twitchy he is. And besides, Stiles owes him for dinner.

“Warm,” Stiles agrees. “I thought I washed it all off and out, but…”

Peter stands and takes both plates, pushing a final fry into his mate’s mouth. “I’ll keep the fries warm and make bacon and eggs. You go wash your hands and then wash yourself out a little more. And remember, dear, not everything needs to be pumpkin pie flavored.”

Stiles jumps up and makes his way to the bathroom, a little wiggle in his walk as he gives Peter the bird.

 


	11. Congrats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Chris' first anniversary is interrupted by Peter and Stiles.

“Congratulations, Happy Anniversary!” Stiles calls out as he pushes his way into Derek’s loft.

“Why are you here, you weren’t invited,” Derek answers, trying to block the door.

Stiles just ducks under his arm, and Peter pushes him out of the way.

“Good thing we’re not vampires then, isn’t it nephew.” Peter looks around and half-smiles/half-sneers at Chris, who’s standing and scowling by the kitchen counter. “Nice to see you too, Christopher.”

“Peter,” he says with a curt nod.

“And why are you here?” Derek asks.

“To help you celebrate your anniversary! Congratulations, one year that you’ve been sleeping with yet another hunter,” Peter says. “At least this time he’s taking his time before he kills you.”

“Or maybe he’s not going to do anything bad and so it’s just Happy Anniversary. One year since you started doing the do, according to Peter. Which I know, intrusive, but still.” Stiles shrugs and puts a bottle on the counter. “We bought you a bottle of champagne, we’ll just drop it off and leave so you can do whatever you plan to do to celebrate. Nudge nudge, wink wink,” he says, complete with waggling eyebrows.

“It’s sparkling wine,” Peter says. “I wouldn’t spend money on actual French champagne for people with your tastes.”

Derek looks at the bottle and shrugs. “Gee, thanks. You can leave now.”

“I suppose we can. If Chris hasn’t killed you in this first year, perhaps he won’t.” Peter walks around the loft, poking a finger at things on the end tables. A cooking magazine. A paperback about some government agency. Car keys on the kitchen counter that belong to Chris’ truck. “Remember, Derek, just because you’re bending over for a hunter, doesn’t mean he’s not still a hunter.”

“You can all definitely leave now,” Derek says, standing by the open front door.

“Come on, don’t be so sensitive,” Stiles says, flopping down on the couch, and reaching for the remote. “You had to know that when you and Chris got together, you’d get some grief.” He finds a program he likes and leans back, putting his feet on the coffee table. “Although I think this is definitely a step up from your last couple of sweeties.”

Christ swats at Stiles’ sneakers with a newspaper and says, “Feet off the table, and maybe you should leave. And I don’t think you have much to talk about since you’re dating a fifty-something werewolf.”

Stiles pushes himself off the couch and grabs Peter’s arm. “Fifty? I know the age thing works differently with werewolves, but really, Peter, how old are you?”

“Old enough to have patience for you and for my nephew with a death wish.” He sniffs the air and says, “What’s for dinner? We can stay.”

“Nope, you’re leaving,” Derek says, gesturing to the open door. “Thanks for the wine, Peter. Rethink your life choices, Stiles. And get out.”

“It’s a wonder you have any friends at all,” Peter sniffs as he escorts Stiles out the door.

“Well that was…” Chris starts, shaking his head. “Should we drink this? Stiles probably wouldn’t let him poison it.”

Derek nods and gets a couple of glasses out of a cabinet. They’re big, chunky tumblers, more suited to Chris’ bourbon with ice than champagne, but they’ll do.

“So, um… did you know this was some type of anniversary?” Chris asks, sipping the wine that bubbles under his nose. He looks towards the oven, where a roast has been cooking for a couple of hours, along with a cheesy potato casserole.

Derek sips his drink and shrugs, ears turning pink. “Maybe?”

Chris chuckles and takes Derek’s glass from him, setting it on the counter so he can pull the younger man into his arms. “Thank you, Derek. And Happy Anniversary.”

 


	12. Come Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now for something completely different. 
> 
> Criminal Minds - Dave and Spencer, who I don't think have a ship name.  
> \- prompt for "-Send me a "Come back" and I'll write a drabble about character asking the other to return (they parted after a fight, the other has been missing for a while, etc)"

“Put him on the phone, Emily.” _Come home._

“Umm, no. Sorry, Dave, he doesn’t want to talk with you,” Emily answers and Dave can practically hear her shrug.

“Emily.”

“Dave.”

He finishes his drink and says, “Tell Spencer I’m sorry I snapped at him, but he nearly got shot today!”

“Gee, that is a surprise, considering he works for the BAU. Usually it’s all puppies and flowers, isn’t it?”

Dave hears his husband’s voice, quiet in the background. “Put him on, Emily.” _Come home._

“He says you need to respect that he knows what he’s doing. And he’s part of the same team that you are and he’s in no more danger than you are and he doesn’t demand you quit.”

Dave picks up Spencer’s jacket, looking at the burn mark the bullet made as it grazed his shoulder. He crumbles it up and shoves it in the bottom of the kitchen garbage bag, then ties up the bag and puts it by the door to the garage to take out and away from their lives.

“I’m not a magnet for crazy people like he is. Honestly, Emily, you know it as well as I do. If someone is going to get shot at, it’ll be Spencer.” _Come home._

He hears her sigh. “Well that is a good point. But you can’t baby him and you can’t order him around. He’s not a kid and he’s not your pet.”

Dave sighs, running his hand through his hair as he slumps down in a kitchen chair. He pours Spencer’s untouched brandy into his now empty glass and twirls it around. “What’ll it take for him to come back? I’m dyin’ here, Em. We both know I’ll do whatever he wants. What does he want from me?”

The next voice is Spencer’s, creaky and tired. “Stop telling me I need to quit working, David. You know what this job means to me. I’m as safe as any of us can be with the team. And I’d be horrible trying to stay at home knowing you’re out there without me. Because you won’t quit, will you?”

 _Come home come home._ “Why would I quit? I’m not a mayhem magnet like you are and…”

Spencer’s sigh interrupts his speech. “So you’re not quitting because I’d like you to, but you think I should because you want me to?”

“I think you should not get shot,” Dave answers and finishes his drink. “Don’t I get one night to worry and fuss and be generally unreasonable?” _Come home._

“Aren’t I the one who nearly got shot? When’s my meltdown?” Spencer asks, because he’s mature and reasonable and Dave spends so much time terrified that he’ll lose the best thing he’s ever known.

“You could have a meltdown here,” Dave suggests. _Come home._   “I’ll run a bubble bath for you and while you’re soaking I’ll make you some pasta full of cheese that’ll increase my cholesterol by another ten points. And I won’t complain when you eat your dinner with dessert wine.”

“You’ll mumble about it,” Spencer says and there’s a hint of humor in his tone; they’ve had that discussion multiple times. Spencer likes his wines sweet and there’s nothing Dave can do about it. “And we won’t talk about me quitting again, right? At least not until next time. Because Dave…there’s always a next time.”

Dave sighs again. He married a genius after all. “I know, Kitten. Are you coming home?”

“Yes. Put on the water for pasta.”

“As soon as we hang up. And sorry for being an ass, but I love you, Spencer.”

He hears his husband chuckle and can picture how he’ll give a small smile while he shakes his head. “I love you, David.”

_He’s coming home._


	13. Crush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is everything he craves in his life and if he needs to bite his lip about his silly little crush he will. As long as it keeps him in the same universe as this interesting creature.

Peter carefully keeps his face neutral, making sure it shows only the familiar sneer. This group, Scott McCall’s pack, doesn’t need to know anything more than they already do.

They’re discussing the newest menace in Beacon Hills, trying to get a description from the anxious betas who’ve seen it. Peter listens, but since no one asks him, he doesn’t tell them what it is. It’s not like it really matters; Scott’ll treat it like he does everything else. Ask it to leave and then be shocked (shocked!) when there’s more deaths. Eventually, one of the pack members will have to kill it, taking on the trauma themselves. A poor excuse for an alpha, is Peter’s opinion.

But he’ll sit and listen and watch. At least he never tires of watching Stiles. This boy has always been interesting to Peter. Too clever and too brave by far, running in the woods, and running with wolves since he was what, sixteen?

Back then, he was interesting to Peter because of his curiosity, willingness to learn and bloodthirsty nature. He’d have been a magnificent wolf and Peter will forever regret that he wasn’t sane enough to pick the right teenager. Derek, bastard that he is, recognized interest from Peter and made sure to threaten Peter as much as possible, throwing him around, simply because he could.

Derek didn’t have to worry of course. Peter would never, _ever_ touch Stiles or anyone else without explicit, enthusiastic consent. He spent too many years in a coma, unable to say anything about the people touching him, moving him, bathing him to think about doing something like that to someone else.

And Stiles from before, for all his bravado, wasn’t very self-confident about things not supernatural. Basic interactions with people, especially attractive ones, left him shy and stammering.

But now, back from his first year of college, he’s still as brave and smart, but there’s more to him now. He moves with more assurance and seems… Peter would say he seems to fit more into his body. When he left he was slightly taller than Peter and he’s since filled out as well. He wears black, horned rimmed glasses that he pushes up every few minutes. Peter’s seen the anti-possession tattoo on his back, one taken from a book that Peter loaned him back when Stiles was in high school.

Of course, he still has that habit of chewing on pens and pencils and everything else that gets near him.  Like that’s not annoying, the way he’s always putting something into his mouth, with those plush, pink lips…

“Peter! Peter are you even listening?” Derek asks.

Peter looks up and sees his nephew standing in front of him, nose wrinkled and anger on his face. In other words, the usual.

“No. Say something worth listening to and I might,” Peter says, giving what might be a charming smile. On him it looks like the wolf that he is.

“We’re going to go out and see if we can find the creature again. Get a better description and then figure out how to get rid of it,” Derek says. His hands are twitching, like he wants to let his claws out.

“Peacefully,” Scott adds, looking at all the betas in the room. “No killing. We’ll talk with it and tell it to leave.”

Peter’s the only one who visibly rolls his eyes, but he can sense Stiles’ exasperation from across the room.

“So you and Stiles should stay here and do some research. If you find out what it is, send a text. We don’t know where it’s been staying, but we’ll find out.” The alpha nods at his pack and says, “Let’s move out, guys.”

 

After they leave, Peter sighs and moves towards the table where he’d normally work. He glances over at Stiles and sees the boy – no, the young man – smiling at him.

“Something to say, Stiles?”

He shrugs and says, “So what is it? What’s the mystery monster that we’re looking for? ‘Cause I know you know.”

Peter can’t stop his grin. Stiles is everything he craves in his life and if he needs to bite his lip about his silly little crush he will. As long as it keeps him in the same universe as this interesting creature.

“It’s called an oomlet; they’re originally from South America. It’s kind of a goat-cougar combination. It stays in fields and away from woods and water. And it will continue to feed, preferring children and the elderly,” he answers, watching Stiles’ face as he listens to what they’re dealing with.

“And how do we kill it? Because I’m guessing it won’t just leave when we ask.”

So smart, so beautiful and so bloodthirsty. “We cut off its head, stuff its chest with sage and burn it, with its head between its legs. That’s how to ensure it doesn’t come back. I have a feeling Scott won’t like that answer.”

“Win some, lose some,” Stiles answers with a shrug. He pushes himself off the couch and stands in front of Peter with a lovely smirk on his face. “So since we know what it is and how to kill it – and since it appears that tomorrow night, that’ll be our job – what do we do tonight?”

Peter grins back and thinks that maybe his crush isn’t quite as one sided as he thought.


	14. Breath Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Stiles take turns with breath play. It does not go well.

So so so what if Peter and Stiles experiment with sexual strangulation and normally Peter cuts off Stiles’ air while they’re fucking because Stiles is very into it and loves the rush when Peter lets go of his throat. He loves looking at the bruises left on his neck the next day, so much darker than the love bites that Peter normally leaves.

And they both feel it’s safe because Peter can hear Stiles breathing no matter how quiet and of course he can hear his heart beating so there’s really no chance of an accident when Peter’s hands are around his neck.

So maybe Stiles wants to do it to Peter because Peter really doesn’t “get” why this is so exciting to Stiles and agrees so Stiles can show him. He thinks it’s okay, it’s nothing he’s particularly excited about, either doing it or getting it, but Stiles likes it, so he’s game. And yes, the bruises do look nice on Stiles.

Stiles’ hands aren’t strong enough to actually have much of an effect on Peter, so he’s got a piece of bent metal pipe that he uses. Peter’s arms are tied to the bed posts, and yes, he could probably free himself, but that’s not how they do it – it is about trust, after all. Then one time it’s Stiles turn to strangle Peter and it’s so good, at least for Stiles. Afterwards, he sprawls next to Peter, leaving a hand on his hip as he gets his breath back, and then looks over to Peter, asking if he’s good but…

Peter’s eyes are wide open and blood shot, petechiae on his face, completely non-responsive. Stiles yells, slaps Peter’s face, shakes him and still there’s nothing. He puts his head on Peter’s chest and nothing – no heart beat at all. Tears on his face he tries chest compressions, but nothing happens.

After trying for 15 minutes or so he tries to think of what to do – call 911? Is it too late? Would they be able to tell he’s a werewolf and would the others be in danger? Peter’s body dissected and doctors and scientists looking for others like him? Like the other Hales and then the rest of the pack?

He can’t do that, so sits rocking back and forth trying to think think think. Peter could come back, he’s done it before, so maybe he can do it again? Stiles isn’t strong enough to really kill him, right? Simple human, can’t have actually killed Peter.

Stiles throws on some clothes and then dresses Peter, crying again at how cold he is as he tries to pull sweat pants and a t-shirt on his body. He can drive Peter to the preserve, that makes sense, that’s where he came back to life before. He needs help though, because Peter’s heavy and now he’s literally dead weight. He calls Erica because she might ask too many questions, but she won’t tell anyone and she won’t judge. She’ll be supportive, hopefully, and Peter loves her with her sarcasm, snark and tons of cleavage.

She’s over within a few minutes and starts by holding Stiles while he has hysterics, helping him breathe through a panic attack. She doesn’t comment on the leather cords still tied to the bed posts or the obvious smell of sex in the room. She just calms him down and says, “What’s the plan?”

Stiles says he needs her help getting Peter into the car so they can take him to the preserve and bury him. She picks Peter up, tossing him over her shoulder with only a slight grunt and lets Stiles lead the way to the garage.

They put Peter in the trunk of his car, which makes Stiles cry again, but as Erica says, it would be really awkward to get caught with a dead body in the backseat. Erica doesn’t comment that there’s already shovels in the trunk.

Erica drives to the preserve and follows a narrow path they made that has just enough clearance for their car. They get out of the car and go to the trunk and Erica offers to dig because it’ll be faster.

Stiles rubs his eyes when they open the trunk and Peter practically flies out, a hand around both of their necks as he pushes them against a nearby tree. “I’m sure you’re going to tell me there’s some logical explanation?” he asks, voice still rough.

“Oh my god!” Stiles cries, holding out his arms towards Peter. “You’re alive, thank god! You were dead, Peter, you were dead and I tried to bring you back and I swear you were dead!”

Peter grunts and says, “I was _almost_ dead, because you are careless and thank god I pay more attention to things like heartbeats than you do.” He releases them both and gives Erica a look. “You may leave, this is between my homicidal mate and me.”

“Oh hell no,” Erica says, smirking. “I got dragged into this and I’m sticking around.” She finds a fallen log to sit on and nods. “Continue, please.”

“I’m sorry, oh god, Peter, I’m so sorry, it was an accident and…”

“And so you thought you’d bury me in the woods? I admit, if that’s the plan, Erica is a good choice, but perhaps you should have called Derek or maybe even Scott?” Peter rubs his throat and says, “Get your ass back in the car, and be happy I don’t put you in the trunk.”

Erica yawns and says, “This was boring. I was hoping for either bloodshed or hot make-up sex.”

“Get in the car now or run your ass home,” Peter says to her, not taking his eyes off Stiles. He holds out his hand and says, “Keys, please. After you kill me you don’t get to drive my car.”

When they get home, Stiles spends the night locked in his cage, but that’s another story.

 


	15. Peter wants to know his daughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter asks Stiles about his daughter. He probably shouldn't have.

So what if Peter decides that he really does want to get to know Malia, and if not be a father to her, at least they can be friends.

So he asks Stiles to tell him about her, and Stiles hems and haws because it’s just weird. “She’s your daughter, Peter. And you’re my boyfriend or whatever it is that we are. Don’t ask me stuff!”

And Peter keeps pushing, “You dated her and you hang out with her. You must know things about her, what she does, what she likes. Be a good boyfriend and tell me what my daughter likes.”

And Stiles says, “Cunnilingus, Peter. She really likes cunnilingus.”

Then Peter can’t look at them in the eye and he doesn’t talk with them for a week.  Stiles, of course, tells Malia, because torturing Peter is fun for all.

Malia starts inviting herself over for movie night, snuggling on the couch with Stiles sitting in the middle.

Peter reconsiders many of his life decisions.


	16. Pass the Pepper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a post on Tumblr from ma-chi1993:
> 
> I always see all these posts about Character A asking to ‘daddy’ to pass the salt/pepper, and both A’s father and Character B get up to get it and an akward silence falls on all the people around them.
> 
> But, let’s give it a twist.
> 
> Imagine Peter at the table, at a sunday lunch in a sunny day of summer, with all the pack around, being the usual cocky bastard, and with the most sarcastic of tones he asks: “Hey Alpha, pass the pepper.”
> 
> Scott is talking with someone else, and gives Peter just enough attention to stretch out to reach the pepper. What he doesn’t expect is his hand bumping into someone else’s; what he expects even less is seeing Stiles reaching for the pepper, his hand barely few millimetres from his own, with the whole table around them suddenly dead silent. 
> 
> It's close, this is where I went with it.

“Don’t you ever get jealous?”

“Jealous of whom?” Peter asks, looking around the table. They’re in the preserve, sitting at the tables, relaxing after a leisurely pack dinner.

“Of them,” Erica says, jutting her chin towards the head of the table where Stiles currently has Scott in a head-lock. Scott’s tickling Stiles’ waist, knowing it’s his weak spot. “Of them, always all over each other.”

“No. They’re what is known as friends. A bromance certainly, but that’s all.” Peter takes a sip of his wine, looking over at his lover who is now tickling their alpha’s armpits, making his eyes flash red. “And besides, Scott is the proof that not all werewolves are bisexual.”

“Ahem?” Boyd interrupts, holding out his hands in a ‘what gives’ gesture.

Erica snorts and gives him a peck on the cheek. “Sure, keep saying that, Mr. It’s Not Gay if it’s a Three-way.”

Peter laughs at Boyd’s blush, eyebrow raised at his favorite beta - other than Stiles. “I’d like to hear about that.”

She laughs, reaching over to squeeze her mate’s hand. “Nah, the first rule of Berica is you don’t talk about Berica. So anyway, that doesn’t bother you at all?”

Peter looks over at his mate who is finally back in his seat, with his head leaning towards Scott. They’re whispering to each other, Stiles’ face flushed from the beer he’s been drinking. Peter knows he could probably hear if he tried, but manners say you let people have some privacy. Besides, Peter is very secure, even smug, about their relationship.

He looks at Erica and then back at the head of the table and calls out, “Oh alpha, please pass the pepper.”

Scott doesn’t stop his whispering as he reaches over for the pepper mill in front of him but before he can grab it, he grabs a hand. Stiles’ hand.

“Dude! Dude? Ew, Dude!” he whines, pulling his hand back. He leans back away from Stiles’ maniacal grin. “I don’t want to know.”

Stiles hands the pepper down the table, giving Peter a grin. “Come on Scotty, it’ll be good for you to broaden your horizons. Besides, how many times did I have to hear about Allison’s perfect breasts? Or Kira and…” he says before Scott cuts him off with a hand over his mouth.

“My what?” Allison asks from the next table.

Isaac raises an eyebrow at the alpha and says, “Her what?”

Kira punches Scott in the arm and says, “Grow up or you won’t see anyone’s perfect anything.”

“I hate all of you.” Derek shuts his eyes, dropping his face into Chris’ shoulder as Chris pets his hair.

Erica cackles at the end of table, and wiping her eyes, she leans into Peter’s side. “Oh god, that’s magic. But seriously, I would have expected something a little different. Maybe some Daddy Peter?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he answers, propping her back up, and refilling her wine glass. “That’s another night, another game.”


	17. Alpha Pack Alternative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So so so, wouldn’t there have been fewer deaths if Derek hadn’t made any betas at all? Just waited until after the alpha pack has come and gone and no one would have had to die.

So the alpha pack shows up and make their way to the loft, hell bent on destruction and blah blah blah. Alpha pack, demon wolf and all that.

They throw open the door and strut in and there’s Derek, sitting on the floor, against the wall by the window. Cora’s across the room, leaning against the opposite wall. Peter’s got his usual place on the stairs.

It’s not what Deucalion and company expected, but part of being a demon wolf is working with the unexpected. “Ah, alpha Hale. We heard the Hale pack has been rebuilt and back in Beacon Hills.” He looks at the three of them, not even pretending that he’s blind. “You’re here with… just two betas? Where are the..”

“I’m not his beta,” Cora interrupts. “And he’s not my alpha. My pack is in South America and I intend to go back there. I came here because I heard there was a new Hale alpha.” She snorts and says, “And I found him.”

Deuc and Kali exchange a look and then Kali turns to Peter. “And you? You’re Derek’s uncle and his beta, aren’t you?”

“Ha! No, I’m not his beta. Good lord, he got my family set on fire, left me in a coma and, oh yeah, after I recovered, he killed me.” Peter rolls his eyes and says, “There is no way in hell I’d be his beta.”

“Oh yeah, Peter, let’s not forget the part about you killing my sister, your niece, Laura!” Derek retorts and then lets his head thunk back against the wall.

“Oh my god, that again? That’s ancient history and I’ve told you I was out of my head and...”

“So why is you killing Laura ancient history and Derek killing you isn’t? And you know…”

Deucalion clears his throat and sighs. “Obviously not your pack. What about the boy? I heard there was a teenager; I believe Peter bit him. Where’s he?”

Derek shakes his head, saying, “Scott wants nothing to do with me, probably because he was attacked in the woods by Peter. He had no chance to give consent to the bite.”

“And again, out of my head. Believe me, if I was able to do it over, I wouldn’t pick that ignorant child.” He turns to Deucalion and smirks. “He’s not here because he spends the majority of his time with a baby hunter; she’s another Argent.”

“And there’s a girl as well? I believe Peter bit a girl, too?” Ennis asks, looking at the Hales.

“Yeah, Peter bit her and no, she’s not a wolf. And she’s not in Derek’s pack or in Scott’s; she’s just around somewhere,” Cora says. “She’s smart -- she doesn’t want to be around any pack.”

The alphas look at each other and Deucalion says, “There’s a human, isn’t there? A boy who runs with the wolves?”

“He’s friends with Scott and his girlfriend, Allison.  They’re like a pack of three with no alpha,” Derek answers, shrugging. “They’re around occasionally, but…Scott won’t be in my pack, he wants to do all this alone.”

“Stiles comes around sometimes, sure. I think he wants to sleep with Cora. Or Derek, I’m really not sure.” Peter grins at Derek, getting a snarl back.

“Maybe you. Or multiples.” Cora shrugs and tells Deucalion, “He’s a weird kid.”

Deucalion scowls as he pushes his glasses up, rubbing his forehead. “So let me get this straight. Derek is an alpha with no betas and there’s another pack that’s one beta and a human and no alpha?”

“Yeah,” Derek says quietly, slumping down on the wall.

“And you two,” he says, pointing at Peter and Cora “are both omegas with an alpha here?”

“No,” Cora spits, “I told you; I have a pack. Just not here.”

“I have a pack,” Peter repeats, sneering at her. “I’m so special, I have a pack.”

“You’re an omega?” Kali asks Peter. “I can understand that.”

“I prefer to think of myself as a free agent.”

Ennis shakes his head again and says, “What do you want to do? We could kill them. Or kill Derek.”

“Seriously? Who will I mock?” Peter asks. “Basically, he doesn’t deserve the sweet mercy of death.”

Derek snarls again, eyes flashing red.

Both Peter and Cora roll their eyes. “Stop it, you’re embarrassing yourself,” Cora says.

“This makes me sad,” Deuc sighs, looking at the holes in the wall and the lack of furniture. “This is not what I expected from Talia’s family.” Peter and Cora can’t stop their low growl and Derek just hangs his head.

“I would guess she wouldn’t have expected this from you either,” Peter says, sharing a look with Cora.

Kali sneers as she looks around the loft again. “Let’s get out of here, this is the most depressing thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I agree,” Deucalion says, taking her arm as they leave. “I can’t see him as an alpha in our pack. He’ll probably be dead in a year anyway.”

After a few minutes, when the cars have driven away, Peter stands and stretches, looking at his watch. “Well, not that this wasn’t fun, but if I leave now, I can grab a pizza and still get home to watch Samantha Bee.”

“I like Samantha Bee. I like pizza,” Cora says, pushing herself off the floor.

Peter rolls his eyes and says, “Alright, come on, let’s get out of here. This _is_ depressing.”

Cora grabs her coat from where she tossed it on Derek’s only table. “Deep dish pepperoni. And you’re paying.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Peter says, slamming the loft door behind them.

Derek stays where he is on the floor thinking that he likes his loft. Maybe it needs some furniture, but he likes the industrial look.

“Come on, Derek, move your ass, we don’t want to miss the start of the show,” Cora calls from the hallway.

Peter doesn’t bother raising his voice, knowing Derek’ll hear him. “Stop sulking, it’s not attractive.”

Grabbing his jacket and car keys, Derek joins his not-pack in the hallway.

 

 


	18. Babcia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles' grandmother has opinions about his upcoming wedding to Peter.

So so so Peter and Stiles are getting married because of course they are. And Stiles’ grandmother will be there; she’s come out a couple of weeks in advance to spend time with her son and grandson and meet his intended.

She’s fine that Peter’s a werewolf, saying that they live a good, long time so it’s fine he’s older than Mieczysław. Werewolves are also healthy and fiercely loyal to their spouses, they’d never cheat. And when Stiles is surprised she knows about werewolves, she just shrugs and says, “What, you think this is the first werewolf I’ve met?”

They sit at the dining room table, drinking hot tea with lemon slices talking about the upcoming wedding. “So you’ll be Stilinski-Hale?” she asks, looking at her son as though it’s somehow Noah’s fault.

“Yes, Babcia. We’re both going to change our names so we’ll have the same name. That’s good, right?” Stiles says, giving Peter’s hand a squeeze under the table.

“Is there a reason you’re not going with Hale-Stilinski? So it ends on a nice note?”

Stiles clears his throat and looks at his father who looks away. “Well, Hales have been here for over a hundred years – 1870s I think – and this has been their pack’s territory for all that time. And although there aren’t a lot of Hales left, it’s still a name that’s known and opens doors with other packs. Being the emissary for the Hale pack is, well, it’s a good thing, prestigious and all that. Or will be when I’m completely trained.”

“Hmm, so a small pack of wolves beats out your magic?” Babcia puts another teaspoon of sugar into her tea.

Stiles shrugs and says, “Maybe if I had more magic, but…”

Babcia takes a breath and her eyes turn opaque white. Later, Peter and Stiles agree that it looked a little like cataracts, but more like a lightbulb behind a seashell.

She brushes her finger on the table as though she’s pushing away a crumb. Peter’s eyes get big as his chair pushes back and then she raises her index finger and his chair rises, about two feet off the floor.

“Wow, can I do that?” Stiles asks, looking up at his fiancé. “I gotta learn to do that.”

Peter slowly comes back down to the ground and takes a sip of his tea, hand barely shaking. “I think Hale-Stilinski is fine. Alphabetical.”  Nodding to Stiles he says, “Shouldn’t be a problem getting the license changed. I’ll get on that tomorrow.”

Babcia reaches across the table and gives Peter’s hand a quick squeeze and a smile. “That’s good, Mr. Wolf, you’ll make a fine husband. Now, let’s talk about my great grandchildren.”


	19. Lawn Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Stiles live in the suburbs and stuff needs to be done. Goats should not be there. 
> 
> From a prompt meme on Tumblr. thorin-dwalin-nori-otp said:  
> Oooh, prompt meme. “Just don’t buy a goat. I don’t care what you do, just no goats" with Steter, please?

It wasn’t Peter’s choice to buy a house. He would have been perfectly happy with a condo or an apartment downtown. He offered to let Stiles pick the building, and agreed to three bedrooms they wouldn’t need. Sure, you have monthly maintenance fees and maybe there’s rules about painting, but a condo is so much easier. The maintenance fees cover things like, oh, maintenance.

But Stiles is a child of the suburbs and to him that means a three bedroom/two bathroom two level house. With an attached garage and the front porch with potted plants. And the front yard that really needs to be fucking mowed.

Peter stands by the window looking out at the street. It’s very suburban, more than he’s used to, but it’s not bad. Just…different. Although now the yard looks a bit like an overgrown meadow.

“So hey, we should probably do something about the yard, huh?” Stiles asks, wrapping his arms around Peter’s waist as he plasters himself to his back. “I mean, Karen, down the street, the redhead, you know?”

“The one with the scary twin girls?” Peter asks.

He snorts and nods into Peter’s shoulder. “Yeah, like The Shining. Anyway, she’s walking her dog as I’m leaving this morning and she says, ‘Oh, I guess your mower must be in the shop. Do you need to borrow ours?’ Talk about subtle!”

“Better than Taylor across the street. He actually said he thought gay people cared a lot about how their property looked.”

“Hmm.” Stiles looks out the window at their neighbor’s house. There’s a group of gnome statues on the front yard that makes Stiles roll his eyes. “Didya kill him?”

“No. I thought about it, but decided against it. Murder would lower property values. So the yard – thoughts?”

Stiles thinks a minute and finally nods. “We could mow it or something.”

“That’s an idea,” Peter answers. “We could do that.”

Stiles pulls back, and turns Peter towards him. “Or… we could get a goat! You know, we’ve seen those news reports about companies that rent out their goat herds to graze in fields! We could do that! It would be great, we could get a goat, Peter!”

Peter steps back and studies his spouse. He looks to see if he’s joking, checks his heart beat and his scent. He’s not joking. “We’re not getting a goat, Stiles. We live in the suburbs, and we don’t need a goat in the front yard.”

“But Peter! Have you seen baby goats? They’re so cute and and and... goat milk!  We could get goat milk and GOAT CHEESE! We could make our own cheese!”

Peter shakes his head and says, “What was I thinking? Was I blinded by lust? Besotted by your cute little ass? No goats and no cheese. We’ll get a lawn mower. We can hire a service or something.”

“But, Peter…”

“Stiles, you know you can do pretty much whatever you want to do with the house, but just don’t buy a goat. I don’t care what you do, just no goats.”

“Oh man! Okay, so what do you suggest?” Stiles asks as he slumps down on the couch in defeat.

“I think we go to Home Depot and buy a lawn mower and you get to mow the lawn,” Peter says, tapping a corner of a picture frame to be sure it’s hanging level. It’s a picture of the pack, taken over the summer at a picnic and is one of Stiles’ favorites.

Stiles jumps off the couch and crows, “Peter!  Can we get one of those John Deere riding mower things? Those are so cool, and I think we can do other things with it, too, like dig trenches or stuff!”

“Really? Why would we need a trench? We just need the lawn mowed so it looks nice. Can we do that?” he asks. There was a lot of yard work at the old house with Talia’s pack. Talia liked to plant flowers and her husband, David, always mowed lawns and trimmed shrubs. Peter didn’t pay attention at the time, it just seemed to get done.

He looks at the front yard, which is still green as the summer heat hasn’t kicked in yet. But the grass is almost knee high and moving in the breeze. Actually, no, it’s not a breeze; there’s something in the grass making it move.

Stiles comes back behind Peter, hugging him again, snuffling into Peter’s neck, trading their scents. “Yeah, I guess that’s not practical, is it? So hey – you always keep everything inside looking nice in your own anal retentive way, so you do in here and I’ll own the outside, okay? But a power mower, cause I’m not doing the push mower thing. ” Somehow, he manages to grab his car keys, and his jacket, and Peter’s hand and the door knob with only two hands as he drags them towards the front door. “We’ll take my jeep because there’s more room in the back for the new mower.”

“And dinner after shopping,” Peter says, which he knows won’t be much of an argument. Stiles is always hungry.

“Absolutely. But I’m thinking; along with the mower, I’m going to need a weed whacker and one of those things that edge the sidewalk. Oh, and lawn sprinklers! And maybe some more flowers for the porch and…”

Peter just nods and lets Stiles drag him outside. Welcome to the suburbs.


	20. Junk Food

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a prompt list on Tumblr, annabethlemorte asked:  
>  #137...Steter please :) “We need groceries, not just junk food. You’re worse than the kids.” 
> 
> And there's a bit of Derek/Braeden here and they have kids, cause I said so.   
> That and Derek deserves something nice.

Derek looks into the bags sitting on the kitchen counter and raises an eyebrow. “Peter? What is this shit?”

“Umm, groceries, I think. You asked me to go to the store for you and so I did,” he answers. His smug smile says he knows exactly what Derek’s talking about.

“Did you get _anything_ on Braeden’s list? You know, actual food items and not…” he reaches into a bag and pulls out a box of Red Vines and a box of Twinkies. “Crap.”

Peter stands behind Derek, looking over his shoulder. “A list? I don’t remember a list?”

“The list I gave you. Stiles took the girls out and you said you’d go to the store. Because you’re pretending to be helpful.” Derek unpacks a six-pack of Mountain Dew and sighs loudly. “We need groceries, not just junk food. You’re worse than the kids.”

“I thought they might want a little something special to distract them from the fact their mother isn’t here with them, and they’re essentially being raised by their father.” Peter puts a bag of potato chips into the cabinet, next to a bag of Cheetos.

Derek sighs again, and tugs the back of his hair, trying to keep from smacking his uncle. “The girls understand when Braeden has to work. And she’s only been gone for two days and she’ll be home tomorrow. Don’t be so dramatic. If that’s possible.”

Shrugging, Peter says, “I’m sure you do a fine job when she’s gone. Out killing people for a living.”

Derek doesn’t get to reply before the front door opens and Derek’s twins run in the house, making a beeline for the kitchen.

“Hi, Daddy!” they both yell, pulling Derek down until he grabs them and sits them on the kitchen counter.

“Hello, Abby. Hello, Lilly,” he says, kissing them both until they squirm and try to wiggle away. “Did you lose Uncle Stiles?”

“Nope, they tried, but I made it back in one piece,” he says, entering the kitchen and turning Peter’s head so he can give him a quick kiss. “I didn’t think two seven-year olds could be so exhausting. We had a busy day, didn’t we, pups?”

“Uh, huh,” Lilly says. “We went to the bookstore and the toy store and went to McDonald’s and then we went to Dairy Queen and then we went to the park and then…”

Derek turns his judgmental eyebrows towards Stiles. “McDonalds _and_ Dairy Queen? Stiles, I thought we talked about not…”

“Daddy, interrupting is rude,” Abby interrupts. “And after the park we came back here.”

“And now we’re hungry again,” Stiles says, turning to the cabinets. “Anything good in here?” He pokes around for a minute and turns to Derek, frowning. “You talk about what I feed them? Really, Derek, there’s nothing but crap here. Ever thought of apples or bananas or something?”

He hands Lilly a bag of Cheetos and she sniffs the bag, smiling at Peter. “Thanks, Uncle Peter,” she says, smiling shyly. She rips open the bag, grabs a handful and hands it to Abby.

Abby jumps off the counter with the bag, giving Peter a quick hug before running off to the living room and turning on the television. “Thanks, Uncle Peter!”

Peter smiles, grabbing a pack of peanut butter cups out of the cabinet and heading for the living room, and the sound of cartoons. “I’m the favorite uncle. I will always be the favorite uncle."


	21. Peter's Nest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe Stiles is an alpha and he never really knew or considered that Peter could be an omega.

 

So so so maybe Stiles is an alpha and he never really knew or considered that Peter could be an omega. It just never occurred to him, mostly because as far as he knows Peter’s never gone in to heat. And he’s never had any type of omega scent, he just always smells (really really) good, but that’s his aftershave.

And he goes to Derek’s loft because there’s something new and scary around and of course, he’s supposed to research it, which actually means he and Peter will come up with a plan to kill it and not tell anyone, cause that’s what they do.

But this time he gets to Derek’s, and Peter’s not there. No one says anything, so he finally asks, real casual like, he’s just curious, no biggie. Derek tells him Peter’s not around, he’s in heat and he’ll be back in about a week. Peter’s heats aren’t very regular, between the coma and oh, yeah, being dead. But he has them and there’s that.

Stiles helps with what he’s supposed to and tries not to ask too many questions. Like does he have someone taking care of him, because someone should. So maybe Derek should because he’s the pack alpha and an alpha as well and he just says, “Nope. Peter’s an adult and he’s done this a million times. If you’re so worried, you go do something. And hope he doesn’t rip your head off.”

So Stiles tries to think of what to do, because yeah, Peter might just rip his head off. Back at home he calls an Italian restaurant he knows Peter likes and even though it’s a little (lot) out of his price range, he has spaghetti and meatball and extra meatballs and lasagna delivered, along with their garlic bread because garlic bread is good. The guy on the phone chuckles like he knows what’s up, but it’s none of his business, right? Stiles is just being a good friend.

Peter’s back in the loft in a few days, smelling pretty good and looking tired, but back to his snarky self. He doesn’t say anything to Stiles, barely acknowledges him at all. Stiles makes sure to leave when he does so he can talk to Peter in the parking lot.

Peter turns on him and tells him that while he appreciates the food, he can and does take care of himself and he really doesn’t need to be courted by someone who once helped set him on fire. “Do you think you’re someone I’d trust when I’m vulnerable? I don’t trust easily, little boy, and I don’t roll over for the first alpha who buys me dinner.”

Stiles just sputters because he wasn’t really trying to court him, not like really court-court him and besides, he thought even Peter agreed that someone needed to stop the crazy rage alpha monster. And he’s trustworthy now, now that Peter’s trustworthy as well.  And he’s going to prove it to Peter that he could be a good alpha to him, if he wanted to (not that he wants to, no).

So he starts doing things like bringing over baked goods to pack meetings, things like peanut butter cookies that he knows Peter likes. And he brings in some fancy coffee to a research meeting and when Peter likes it, he buys him a pound of the beans. Like buddy like, that’s all.

Since Peter seems receptive, he pushes it and brings a pan of hot brownies to Peter’s house and because they’re hot, he uses a sweat shirt as a pot holder and maybe he forgets it or he leaves it there because the pan’s hot and Peter will need it as a pot holder, okay, that’s the only reason.

After a while, Peter’s back to smiling at him and everyone else gives them eyerolls so maybe that’s something. And after a couple of months go by, he drops by Peter’s apartment to do some research (because they’re still not supposed to kill things, sure, keep believing that) and sometimes he leaves a sweater, because he might need it the next time he comes over. And maybe that time, there’s no research, just a movie that Peter missed when he was in his coma but he really should see, and they watch and share food and there’s only a reasonable amount of snark.

And then some months pass and suddenly, Peter’s not around again. He cautiously asks Lydia because she’s an alpha too and she just shakes her head and says, “Couldn’t you smell him? It’s not like he wasn’t hanging around sniffing at you.”

So he goes to Peter’s house, just to check on him, that’s all, no expectations. But he brings over a mac and cheese he made along with some chocolate chip cookies, and rings the doorbell.

Peter opens the door and stands there, staring at Stiles. He’s wearing one of the sweatshirts Stiles left there and after a moment he says, “Well, are you coming in?”

When Stiles enters, Peter grabs the food, and sets everything on the coffee table as he pulls Stiles into the bedroom by his belt. Peter’s made his nest on the bed, all the blankets in a comfortable looking mess. Stiles can see the sweater he left there wrapped around a pillow. There’s also his missing Chico State t-shirt and he’s not sure, but maybe that’s his lacrosse jersey from high school.

Peter rubs his face along Stiles’ neck, sighing softly as he tugs on the bottom of Stiles’ shirt. “Yes or no, boy? Yes or no?”

“Yes. God enthusiastic consent, yes yes yes.”

His shirt joins the nest materials and the mac and cheese gets reheated in the microwave.


	22. Stiles Adopts a Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Stiles is a lot more damaged than he appears to be. I mean, it would be natural, it’s almost impossible that he’s not troubled. 
> 
> And his life isn't what he thought it would be -- so Peter helps.

So so so what if Stiles is a lot more damaged than he appears to be. I mean, it would be natural, it’s almost impossible that he’s not troubled. After things like his mother dying and his best friend (was his best friend) almost getting killed and people he went to school with getting killed in front of him.

Alpha packs and dread doctors and having to kill someone in self-defense (and not being believed).

And the nogitsune in his mind, with more blood on his hands (Allison) and fucking ghost riders. He should be a bit…changed.

And maybe the only person who understands him is someone he certainly wouldn’t have expected, but Peter _does_ understand, he understands trauma and not being believed. Trying to protect people who won’t understand the danger out there and what you need to do to make yourself safe. Especially when others don’t understand.

And the others have moved on, getting ready for college, acting like it’s a one-and-done thing, got rid of the monsters, everything must be good. He thought Lydia understood and was with him and they were in it together, but hell, she’s damaged too. But her way of dealing with it is to not deal with it and pretend everything’s fine while her eyes scream what she can’t/won’t say. He’s no good to her and she’s no good for him. 

So the one who is good for him and who understands is Peter. Peter doesn’t complain when Stiles phones him at three in the morning. Half the time, he’s awake as well. Peter doesn’t tell him they’ll talk in the morning (they don’t) and to go back to sleep. Peter stays up for hours playing Words with Friends or just texting back and forth. Or watching a movie together, Peter at his house and Stiles at his.

It’s natural that Stiles starts leaving the window unlocked so Peter can come in on those nights when it’s bad and he calls in a panic. Peter’s there, holding him, rubbing his back and reminding him to breathe when he dreams of his mother yelling at him for what he’s done to his father and how it’s his fault, it’s all his fault (it is).

From there, it’s natural that Peter comes over before there’s a nightmare. Or that Stiles goes to his house. And that’s the only way he can get to sleep, the werewolf he had nightmares about is now the one who keeps him safe, his personal security blanket and the only way he can rest. And it helps Peter, too, the circles under his eyes, something werewolf healing does not heal, start to fade. No one notices or if they do, they don’t say anything – who wants to deal with two damaged people when you’re trying to forget your own damage?

So if sleeping together turns into sleeping together, whose business is it? You didn’t care before, you have no say now. There’s a raised eyebrow and Scott says, “Stiles, are you sure? You know who he is, what he did.” (he didn’t kill Allison)

But it’s nobody’s business. He’s 19 and so what, he’s living with a man old enough to be his father. Peter takes care of him (like his father hasn’t) and understands him and keeps the monsters away.

“This isn’t what I planned,” Stiles says, chuckling into Peter’s chest. They’re in the preserve in the middle of the night after a rollicking round of sex. Peter’s arms around him and his legs in between Peter’s keeps away any cold.

“Sex in the woods? I beg to differ, darling, I think this is _exactly_ what you had planned,” the wolf says.

“No, I mean. Well, yes, this I planned, but my life? I thought a wife and 2.5 kids and a dog. Is this what you thought of when you were growing up?”

Peter’s quiet and huffs a breath. “Do you want a dog?”

“No, idiot,” Stiles says and slaps his chest. “Dogs hate you anyway. Did you expect a wife and kids?”

“I tried a wife. We didn’t get along. Or perhaps we were too alike,” he answers, gently tugging on Stiles’ poor, tired cock. “Kids? I don’t know. I like them, I suppose I wanted them. A son to spoil.” He kisses Stiles’ temple and grins. “Oh look, now I have you.”

It’s Stiles’ turn to snort. “You could have kids. I mean, I know you have Malia, but…”

“Hardly my child, is she now?” he says, falling silent. Something else taken from him along with his family and dignity and sanity.

Stiles rolls on top of Peter, knowing his 150 pounds will hardly crush him. “But you’d like a child? I always thought I’d like a child. Yeah, a boy. Do all the stereotypical stuff, like baseball and I don’t know – what do boys do with their fathers?” (if they aren’t workaholics or functional alcoholics)

“Teach them to catch prey, how to shift, who to be suspicious of. That sort of thing,” he answers and rolls over so Stiles is captured (safe) underneath him. “Would you like a child, Stiles? Would you want to raise a child?”

“Not alone,” he answers, kissing Peter, wrapping arms and legs around his lover, his world. “We could raise a child together though.”

“Hmm,” Peter says and shows Stiles he is the wolf’s everything.

 

It’s a couple of weeks later and Peter comes home with a bundle held carefully in his arms.

“What’s that, wolf?” he asks, noting the smear of blood on Peter’s cheek. He takes the bundle from Peter and together they unwrap it. Inside, asleep, is a tiny baby with a smattering of dark hair. “He’s lovely, Peter. Is he ours?”

Peter nods and says, “Yes. He’s about a month old. Yes, a month. His name is Jeffrey.”

Stiles looks at Peter, seeing the tear in his shirt, showing a now-healed cut underneath. There’s blood on his fingers, under his nails. “Jeffrey. That’s nice. You should go take a shower and I’ll figure out a bed for him.”

“Oh, here’s a few supplies,” Peter says, gesturing to a diaper bag on the floor behind him.

Stiles takes the bag and sets it on the coffee table, ripping off the tag without looking at it. “Give me your clothes and go shower.”

Cotton and paper both burn very well on a gas stove and ashes dissolve in the kitchen sink.

 

Noah comes over, looking around his and Peter’s house. “I was told you two have been in town with a baby? So that’s… a relative, Peter?”

“No, he’s ours,” Peter says, tilting his head and studying the sheriff. “A pack had several members killed by hunters and he was orphaned. You can’t put a possible wolf in foster care, so I said we’d take him.”

“Oh. Oh, I guess. I would have thought someone else in the pack would have taken him,” Noah says, peeking at the baby and smiling. “He’s pretty cute; he’s a wolf, you know this early?”

“No, we won’t know until he hits puberty. But we couldn’t leave him until then,” Stiles answers, gently pulling the baby away. “He needs to be changed and then to go down for a nap.”

“Okay, well… if you need anything… or need a sitter or anything…” Noah says, backing towards the door.

“Thank you, Noah. I’m sure we’ll be around to visit soon,” Peter says. He’s always been better at this (at being normal) than Stiles.

 

It’s a surprise when Derek comes over; neither of them knew he was back in town. Neither of them cared.

“So you got him…where?” Derek asks, sitting at the kitchen table, holding Jeffrey while Peter heats a bottle.

“A pack had a major loss. Hunters, you’ve heard of them? I said we’d take him, Stiles and I,” Peter answers, not bothering to turn around. He can hear everything the two of them are doing.

“What pack? I didn’t hear about anything big,” Derek asks. Because he pokes and prods and is nosey when it’s not his business. Ah, but the things he can ignore.

Peter glares at him, and says, “A pack, Derek. A pack I kept a relationship with when the other Hales left our land. So they called me.”

“Hmm. Interesting they’d call you and not the alpha of the territory. Where’s he from – like what state?”

Peter shuts his eyes and sighs, “Southern California and why would they call someone they don’t know?”

“It just seems… strange is all,” Derek says and takes the bottle, smiling as Jeffrey sucks greedily. 

Peter watches them both, new and old family, small smile on his face.

 

“Darling,” Peter says, when he and Stiles are finally in bed. “Do you like it here? Do you need to stay?”

“Here? This house or…”

“Beacon Hills. California. Do you need to stay here? Your father’s here and your friends.”

“Wolf?” Stiles asks, leaning on an elbow to look at Peter. “We should leave?”

“We could,” he answers easily. “How would you feel about that? Could you leave here?”

Father Lydia mother’s grave Scott nightmares terror guilt the dead

Stiles shrugs. “There’s nothing holding us here. We could use a new start. No expectations from anyone,” he says. “Do we have Peter’s birth certificate and things?”

Peter raises an eyebrow and says, “Peter? You mean…”

“Our son, Peter Jeffrey Hale,” he answers grinning. “Anything keeping us here?”

The wolf sighs and pulls his boy-mate-savior down against him. “We could leave…the end of the week. Is that soon enough?”

“I think so; there’s been nothing in the papers or online. We can wait a few more days,” Stiles answers. “I just have a few things to pack. We can put things into storage if you think we may want to have stuff shipped sometime later.”

Peter snuffles into Stiles’ neck, making him wiggle. “Hmm, that’s good. Do you have a place you want to go?”

“Maine or New England maybe?  Ocean and winters and all that.”

“I love you, boy,” the wolf says.

“I love you, too, wolf,” his boy answers.


	23. Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Peter and Stiles go on vacation, Peter likes to play one of his favorite games, which he calls Annoy the Heterosexuals.

When Peter and Stiles go on vacation, Peter likes to play one of his favorite games, which he calls Annoy the Heterosexuals.

They’ll go in to a shop and Peter will keep an arm around Stiles’ waist or shoulder, snuggling and cooing at him until anyone would find it obnoxious. Stiles did at the start, until he heard a woman harrumphing at her husband about “those people, they have no sense of propriety” and from then it was game on.

Now they’re wandering through an antique shop, one of Peter’s favorite things to do, when he notices a disapproving look from a married couple nearby. So he pulls Stiles closer, running his nose along Stiles’ jaw.

“Anything you want, baby boy, just let me know,” he coos at Stiles. It’s their code; he doesn’t use that as a pet name for Stiles otherwise. His true endearment, only whispered into Stiles’ ear is ‘my heart’ and it always makes Stiles melt.

So Stiles cocks an eyebrow and glances over Peter’s shoulder at the couple who are very obviously _not_ looking at them (except the quick glances over). “Okay, I’m sure I’ll find something, everything here’s so pretty!”

“You always find something, don’t you, darling? Do you want some jewelry? There’s some exquisite pieces in the front counter. Maybe you need another ring?” Peter asks, running his thumb over Stiles’ cheekbone.

“I can hardly wear everything you’ve given me already,” he says, moving to another row that happens to be within view of the upset couple.

Peter lets Stiles guide him so they’re trailing several feet behind their marks. “Well, find something pretty, so I can spoil you.”

“Oh! I like this, Peter! This is nice!” Stiles points to a vase on a shelf in front of them.

He has to let go of Stiles to pick up the vase, studying it and the factory marks on the bottom, while Stiles hangs his chin on Peter’s shoulder. “You like this, darling? It is pretty.”

“I can put it on our bedside table and it’ll be the first thing I see in the morning. Well, after you,” Stiles says, and wiggles his way back into Peter’s embrace.

“It’s a little expensive, pet. Do you think you deserve it?”

Stiles wraps his arms around Peter’s neck and says, “If you get it for me, then later, when we get home, I’ll…” He brushes his cheek against Peter’s and whispers in his ear, “Hit you in the face with a shovel.”

“That sounds sweet. Then we’ll get this for you.” Peter kisses his nose looking past the couple and catching the shop owner’s eye. He gives the wife a wink before she turns away, dragging her husband out of the shop, shaking her head and muttering.

Of course, since it’s obvious that Peter will be buying the vase, there’s not too much opportunity to negotiate on the price. But Peter gets a small amount off the price shown and after pulling out his charge card, they’re ready to head to their next destination, hopefully lunch.

Stiles looks in the back seat of Peter’s Mercedes and shakes his head, taking Peter’s free hand. “I can’t believe you really bought that.”

Peter glances at him and says, “Of course I bought it; you said you like it.”

“You really thought I liked it?” he says, snorting. “I’m a better actor than I thought. Why would I like a big purple flower pot with little cupids all over it?”

“It’s a lilac porcelain vase decorated with cherubs in mid-relief. And I paid $300 for it. You mean you don’t actually like it?” Peter asks, eyebrow raised.

“Let’s just say it’s not my style.” Stiles grins and squeezes Peter’s hand. “I didn’t think you were really going to buy it for me. I thought maybe you liked it and that’s why you were buying it.”

“Hmm, no, not my style either.” He drives silently for a minute and then turns to his young mate with a smirk. “I think we just found Derek’s Christmas present.”

“No!” Stiles exclaims, giving back a manic grin. “Cora’s!”


	24. Barbeque

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was raised to hate them, told all his life that they’re monsters. But here’s someone he’s worked with, and he’s trusted his life to this man.

Okay, Chris day!

He’s not sure why he’s getting anxious and depressed until he looks at the calendar and realizes it’s just a day or so before the anniversary of Allison’s death. He remembered Victoria’s death, of course, but somehow this is much worse.

When the day comes around, Chris is prepared to hibernate in his apartment and maybe sleep all day; he doesn’t want to deal with it. But the doorbell rings around noon and it’s Derek, who says he thinks there’s something in the preserve, by the new house, and can Chris come look. Chris doesn’t want to, makes some excuses, but Derek won’t let him off the hook.

Derek shows him tracks he’s seen and marks on the trees and Chris looks at him like he’s an idiot and says, “It’s a deer, Derek. You have to know that. They butt their antlers against trees? You know that.”

Derek shrugs and says he’s not familiar with simple deer, he expected it to be a monster-deer or something. But as long as Chris is already out there, why not come over and Derek’ll make lunch to make up for his trouble.

He’d rather go home, but Derek looks so hopeful and really, he’s not going to do anything at home but mope. So he agrees.

Derek has some steaks marinating in the fridge and pulls out a bottle of bourbon, saying he drinks it because he likes the taste. He pours heavy for Chris and makes sure he’s comfortable in a lounge chair outside, out of the sun. They talk about nothing at all, some updates on the pack members, including how Isaac’s doing in France. After a bit, Chris is definitely feeling his bourbon, even though Derek’s made sure to feed him well.

Chris realizes Derek keeps checking on him, eyebrows looking concerned and it dawns on him. “You know? That’s what this is? You know what day this is?”

Derek shrugs and says, “The first couple of years are the hardest, I know. So I thought…”

He slumps in the chair with a sigh and picks up his glass, studying the werewolf. He was raised to hate them, told all his life that they’re monsters. But here’s someone he’s worked with, and he’s trusted his life to this man. Plus, Derek’s the only person who might understand how much he’s lost because Derek lost at least this much. Derek lost his family because of Chris’ family and yet Derek is the one who’s invited him over to take care of him.

“What’s for dessert?” Chris asks.

Derek smiles broadly and says, “Ice cream bars. You ready for one?”

Chris sighs and leans back shutting his eyes. “Sounds good, but give me a few minutes.”

There’s a creak as Derek sits in the chair next to him. “Sure. Just let me know what you need.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Discontented Winter is doing “Chris head canon” day over on Tumblr and it got around to Derek/Chris, which is a favorite, so this came out.
> 
> I think it takes them a long time to get to any type of sex, if there actually is any, but they touch a lot and there’s cuddling and just human contact is so good for both of them. Anyway…


	25. Coach's Wife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finstock’s wife is gorgeous. Like supermodel gorgeous. (Think Roger and Jessica Rabbit.) She adores him and she’s the one who calls him Cupcake. 
> 
> For ThisDiscontentedWinter’s teacher head canon on Tumblr.

After the game ends and the teams trade handshakes, Stiles stumbles towards Coach. He’s still trying to catch his breath when he says, “Coach, hey Coach…”

“Stilinski. Good game today, you didn’t score for the other team, so congratulations,” Coach says, picking up papers from behind him on the bench.

“Actually, I had an assist in the third quarter? You actually pointed at me and yelled ‘Good job.’ Remember?” Stiles asks. It’s probably pointless, but…

Coach looks at him and nods. “Of course, sure I did. Good job, Stilinski, what a good boy. Go take a shower, you smell like a goat.”

“Thanks, Coach. I wanted to ask you, um, the woman with you earlier, that’s your, um, that’s Mrs. Finstock?” Stiles stammers, pushing his hair off his forehead. And yeah, armpit in his face, he does smell.

“Yes. That was my wife, Mrs. Finstock,” Coach answers, small smile on his face.

“Wow, she’s really – if you don’t mind my saying so – she’s really beautiful,” he says, thinking back to the tall, slender blonde who was at the edge of the bleachers before the game. It was like the field was visited by an angel or at the very least a super model.

“I aware of that, I married her.” Coach checks his watch and says, “Anything else?”

“How did you meet?” he asks, because Coach is… well, he’s interesting and he certainly is passionate about things, but talk about out of someone’s league.

“Meet? Well, assuming it is your business, her car had a flat tire and I stopped and fixed it for her. This was in the olden days when everyone didn’t have a cell phone. I saw a car at the side of the road and stopped. We talked and when I was done with her tire, she gave me her phone number.”

Stiles knows his mouth is hanging open, but he’s unable to stop it. “She gave you her phone number? Voluntarily? I mean…”

“No, I took down her license plate number and hired a private detective. Go take a shower, Stilinski,” he answers. Since they’re back to overt sarcasm, it’s probably time to go.

Suddenly, the woman in question slips out of the shadows, smiling as she sees Coach. He puts an arm around her shoulder as she wraps both arms around him, snuggling into his side and leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Hi, Cupcake. Great game, congratulations.”

“Thank you, and thanks for coming tonight.” He looks at Stiles and sighs. “Jane, this is one of my players, Stilinski. My wife, Jane.”

“Ma’am,” Stiles says, moving to shake hands.

She smiles, but doesn’t pull away from Coach. “Nice to meet you. You’re…the Sheriff’s son?”

“Uh, yeah. Yes,” he says and swallows loudly. “Oh, I am still so so bisexual,” he mutters, almost but not exactly quietly.

Coach raises an eyebrow and says, “Thank you, I did not need to know that.”

“Well, you should certainly be who you are, but remember, my Bobby’s taken,” Jane says, looking at her husband with hearts in her eyes.

“Jane, I’m taking the team out for pizza so they can have something in their stomach before they go to a party and illegally drink until they’re vomiting. Do you want to come with us? You don’t have to sit by them. I won’t.” Coach asks her, kissing her forehead.

She shrugs and makes a sad face that still looks beautiful. “No, I think I’ll go home and wait for you. I might have had enough team for one night.” She leans forward and whispers in his ear, “You’re right, they do smell like a pack of goats.”

“Understood, and I won’t be late,” Coach says, smiling at her as he kisses her cheek. Stiles is pretty sure he’s never seen that type of smile on Coach before. It’s possible he’s never seen any smile on Coach before.

“See you later, Cupcake,” she says, turning and gliding gracefully away. She calls over her shoulder, “Good night, Stilinski.”

“Good night, Mrs. Finstock,” Stiles calls watching her walk to a plain, black SUV.

“Are you watching my wife walk away?” Coach asks him, slapping him in the back of the head. “Stop that and go take a shower.”

“Yes, Coach,” Stiles answers, shuffling off towards the locker room, with just one glance towards the parking lot where Mrs. Finstock is driving away.

“And do not take too long in the shower, you pervert!” Coach yells after him.

Stiles waits until he’s out of ear shot and says, “I’ll wait until I get home.”


	26. Pet Names

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Stiles have pet names for each other.

 

Stiles and Peter have pet names that they use in front of other people, especially when they’re with their pack.

Stiles is “silly child” or “delicate little human” or sometimes “my little moron.” Peter is often “psycho wolf” and sometimes “Uncle creepy.”

 

But at home, when one or the other is feeling a bit fragile, or enjoying the quiet after making love, the names are different. Then, the names are whispered - “sweetling” or “my heart.” “My wolf” and “our protector”.

 

It’s been a heated debate about what’s the latest thing roaming the city and Scott’s jaw is clenched as he approaches his packmates. “I don’t understand why Stiles stays with him! They’re almost at each other’s throats!”

Derek sighs without looking up from his book, while Allison and Lydia just look at each other and roll their eyes.

“They’re fine, Scott. That’s just what they do,” Lydia says.

“But Peter just called Stiles a spastic little idiot!” Scott exclaims, looking over his shoulder at the couple as they snarl at each other.

Allison chuckles and shrugs. “And before that, Stiles called Peter a geriatric pervert. So what?”

Scott rubs his forehead as though he can make his brain understand. All it does is leave a red mark. “I don’t know how they can talk to each other like that and we’re supposed to accept they’re in love. Peter says really awful things to him.”

“And Stiles says things back. It’s their thing,” Derek says, shrugging and pretending he’s not paying attention.

“We’re leaving,” Stiles yells out. “Peter thinks he has an idea about what’s out there and needs to get some supplies.”

“Want me to come along?” Scott asks, turning to go with them.

Peter grabs Stiles’ arm and pulls him towards the door. “No thanks, we’re good.”

 

Isaac enters as they’re leaving, and he glances over his shoulder, muttering, “Must you?”

“What? What happened? Are you alright?”  Scott asks, searching his face to be sure he’s okay. “Did Stiles say something?”

“No. Nothing happened, it’s just… them,” he says, gesturing behind him to the front door.

Scott runs towards the front window, watching Peter and Stiles get into Peter’s car, with Stiles behind the wheel. “What did they do?”

“They didn’t do anything.” Isaac slumps down on the sofa next to Derek, leaning over to see what he’s reading. “I walked past them and heard Peter call Stiles ‘my moon’ and got a little queasy.”

“Oh!” Allison says, smiling. “That’s sweet.”

“Sure, if you say so. And then Stiles said, ‘you’re my sun’ and you know I’m feeling sick.”

Derek glances at him and moves over just a little, saying nothing.

“That is adorable,” Lydia says, smiling coyly at Allison, who blushes and looks down.

“If they can talk to each other like that, why do they say such awful things to each other while we’re all around?” Scott asks the room.

Derek shuts his book and heads for the stairs, leaving his betas in the living room. “I think it’s called foreplay.”


	27. Senior Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's skip from Teen Wolf to Senior Wolf, where they're all in a retirement home.

So I’ve read that people want to see a new version of Teen Wolf, where they’re not teens, but adults. They want to see Adult Wolf.

I’d skip over that and go right to Senior Wolf. Where they’re all in a senior living community.

And no one will play bridge with Malia because she snarls at them when she’s losing. And Scott’s upset because people can’t see his red eyes really well because of the cataracts.

Stiles flails and nearly falls out of his wheel chair and Peter has to put his walker aside and help him get back up.

“You need to be more careful, Stiles.”

“What?”

“More careful!” Peter says again, a little louder. “You need to be more careful.”

“WHAT?”

“Dammit, I’m not the deaf one, stop yelling!” Peter glares at him and says, “Carefully. You need to move more carefully.”

“More cauliflower? I hate cauliflower!”

And then the facility director comes over and says, “Mr. Hale… Miss Lofton says you’ve been stalking her again. And sniffing at her. We’ve had this discussion, and you shouldn’t do that, it upsets people.”

Stiles mutters, “Knew I shoulda had you neutered years ago.”

“Why can he hear what you say and he can’t hear what I say?”

“WHAT??”

And Mason jumps over three of Liam’s checkers and calls out, “King me!”

**“WHAT?”**

Liam shakes his head and says, “I wish I had just fallen off the damn roof.”


	28. Feral Peter and Stiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if the alpha pack killed Derek and Cora? Peter was smart and avoided them, but Deucalion and company knew the other Hales and where they were. It’s not like simply losing a limb. Peter feels the pack bonds shred as though his own chest is torn out when both are killed.

So so so – what if the alpha pack killed Derek and Cora? Peter was smart and avoided them, but Deucalion and company knew the other Hales and where they were. It’s not like simply losing a limb. Peter feels the pack bonds shred as though his own chest is torn out when both are killed.

With no pack and no family, he has an epic meltdown. It makes his mental state when he recovered from his coma seem like a child’s temper tantrum. He’s gone completely into his wolf-mind, only an animal reacting to what’s around him. And what he’s able to think is he needs to be sure the only person who is nearly pack to him is kept safe. The one he’s spent time researching with, the one not afraid or repulsed by him. The boy he was trying to bite in the woods. There’s danger and he needs to make sure Stiles remains safe.

Stiles is unexpectedly compliant getting in to Peter’s car without fighting. Without saying much of anything actually. Peter drives, taking the freeway and getting out of the city and out of the county as quickly as he can. Stiles relaxes slightly as they get farther away and finally tells Peter that Jennifer murdered his father before he could do anything to stop it. She needed her three guardian sacrifices and they weren’t in time to save him. His father died with a knife in his chest.

Peter assures him he’ll take care of him and they’ll both get the revenge they deserve. They have time, it’s all they have.

For the first year, they travel and try to recover. Make a few plans, do some research but it’s mostly about getting across the country, as far from California as possible. They end up with a small cabin Maine, almost into Canada. It’s a good place to recoup and try to find who they are now.

It’s not sexual, but it’s physical. Both were touch starved over the past few years. Yes, Stiles had his father, but with being busy (or drunk) and Stiles being a teenager and naturally pulling away, he missed the contact. Maybe with a mother, she would have forced it, but who knows? And of course Peter lost six years and after that – whose fault could be a debate, but the result was a wolf without human contact. So they stay close to each other, giving each other little touches, sitting plastered next to each other while reading or watching a movie. And if sleeping in the same bed helps when someone wakes up screaming from night terrors, that’s no one’s business.

“You like confusing and upsetting people, don’t you?” Stiles asks as they return from their monthly trip into town for supplies. There’s a few whispers, but they chose this place to be left alone.

Peter shrugs. “If people have dirty minds and make assumptions, that’s on them.”

“You like it,” Stiles states, but he’s not upset. They take care of each other and keep each other safe and (relatively) sane.

They get stronger in body and mind and finally, the time comes to start taking action. First thing, of course, is to find an alpha for Peter to kill. Stiles is under no allusions, it’s going to be an eye for an eye and it’s going to be bloody. It’s bloody for both of them as Stiles hunts down witches and druids, learns their secrets and then kills them. They research packs and finally find one that’s small and discontent with their alpha. Between Stiles’ spells and Peter’s, well everything, they end up the next morning with Peter a shiny-new alpha.

He’s not the same monster he was when he was an alpha before, but he is a monster. The monster they need now to get their vengeance.

“Scott’s mother lived, you know. He was able to save her,” Stiles says, out of nowhere. “He saved his mother, but he couldn’t save my father.”

Peter’s eyes flash and he studies his hand, looking at his claws, bigger now that he’s an alpha again. “Is he on the list?”

Stiles thinks for a minute and shakes his head. “He’s already dead to me.”

 

It’s not hard to find the alpha pack, they don’t exactly hide. Jennifer may have needed her group of sacrifices for power, but between Stiles’ magic and Peter’s rage, they’re able to get rid of the pack. Not all at once, and not right away, but chipping away at them is at least as satisfying.

“Apparently Deucalion is having problem getting new recruits,” Peter says, reading an email from a pack he made a treaty with. For now, they don’t add to their pack; that might come later. But other packs recognize the power in the two of them and they wait. It’s best not to piss off the new Hale pack.

They save Jennifer and Deucalion for last. It might have been more fun for Peter if Stiles hadn’t broken his legs first, but this way there’s no escaping. A lot of begging, which Stiles thinks is a little funny and kind of pathetic from a demon wolf.

“I just got these shoes,” he complains, putting his blood soaked Vans into a bag so Peter can throw them out.

Peter just looks at him as he shoves his pants into a separate bag, “Cashmere sweater, Stiles. Cashmere.”

“Stupid thing to wear to kill someone,” Stiles answers, with a shrug. “Maybe we should get those haz-mat suits?”

“Yes, they’re very inconspicuous.” Peter takes their bags and extra clothes tossing them onto the corpse. “Bit of fire, please.”

“Gladly. And let’s get some clothes, soon, please? I’m chilly.”

It doesn’t take much for Stiles to create a fire and they watch until they’re sure it consumes everything.

 

Jennifer is taken out with an explosive placed under her car. It’s not very were-wolfy, or witchy, unless you count the fact that Stiles didn’t actually use any explosive; it was done with a slight touch of his hand running over the hood. As Stiles points out, it’s effective and the explosion was fun to watch.

“I kind of wish we were closer, so we could have seen it go off,” he says, sighing wistfully.

Peter pats his knee and turns down the volume on the television. “I’m sure someone has a video of it and it’ll be on youtube shortly. Anyway, I know you felt it.”

He smiles and his eyes flash as he nods. “Felt good,” he says, and curls up on Peter’s side as they continue to watch more coverage.

“My little monster,” Peter says, wrapping his around Stiles and giving him a soft kiss on the head.

 

Several years later, Allison and Scott are on their honeymoon in France. They’re walking towards the Louvre, when they pass two men. They’re walking close to each other, heads bent together, talking quietly.

Allison stops and grabs Scott’s arm. “Was that? Was that Stiles? With Peter?”

Scott is nodding, already turning back and calls out, “Stiles? Hey, Stiles?”

They stop and Peter turns towards Stiles, with a small grin on his face, letting his eyes flash red, knowing they’ll be seen.

Stiles turns and looks at the people calling for him. His eyes go opaque white and he hisses, showing rows of sharp little teeth. Peter takes Stiles elbow, protectively, possessively, and turns him to continue walking.

Scott and Allison step back and look around, but it seems like no one else saw them. No one is looking or stopping and when they look again they’re gone.


	29. Down Pup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little fic thing that got stuck in my head. 
> 
> It’s not a good idea to try to hide your relationship from your father, lest he jump to the very wrong conclusion.

So so so Stiles absolutely cannot tell his father he’s dating Peter. His father knows he’s bi and that wasn’t the worst conversation they ever had, but he’s not ready to tell his father it’s probably serious – or at least potentially serious.

Peter’s a werewolf for one and his father is not supposed to know about the supernatural. It’s too risky and just nope. Now that Stiles is away from home, in his final year of college, there’s no reason to drag him into that mess. Beacon Hills has kind of calmed down, Scott’s grown into his alpha-ness and what his dad doesn’t know (hopefully) won’t hurt him.

Oh, and don’t forget Peter’s closer to Noah’s age than he is to Stiles’. And that little awkward bit about dating his daughter. At one point, Noah thought Stiles was dating Derek and he was making comments about Derek’s age, (he’s only six years older than Stiles!) and while that was a ridiculous idea (Derek? Dating requires emotion, so that’s out) it does tell Stiles that Peter won’t be a popular choice.

But it’s good, if a little awkward. Technically, Stiles lives alone, in an apartment a few minutes away from the Chico campus and thankfully, Noah doesn’t ask how he can afford such a nice place. In reality, of course, Peter’s there all the time and he pays because he has money and likes to throw it around and cannot lower himself to live in typical student housing. Noah’s been there, and he approves of the place and likes that his only son isn’t forced to share his home with a thousand cockroaches.

 

Generally, Noah respects Stiles’ privacy and doesn’t just show up unannounced. Until today.

 

Peter and Stiles had a nice dinner downtown, in one of the classier restaurants and then spent the night at home. Slow, quiet and romantic, just as Stiles likes it, although he’d be loath to admit it. Soft music, candles and making love in front of the fire. Ah, romance.

Stiles doesn’t even hear his father’s key in the lock, but apparently Peter does. And protective boyfriend that he is, he shifts into his wolf form, standing in front of Stiles, baring his teeth.

“Stiles?” Noah asks, looking into the room, seeing his son stumble to pull the blanket from the floor around his waist.

“Dad! Hey, wasn’t expecting you so early, thought you were coming later today, like dinner time?” he sputters, looking around to see what’s incriminating. Other than Peter, who’s sitting looking between his lover and his lover’s father.

“Yeah, well, I got someone to cover for me, so got an early start and thought I’d take you to breakfast.” Noah looks around again and shakes his head.

Stiles isn’t completely sure, but it looks like his face is disappointment, fear and … disgust? “Dad? Um…”

Noah shakes his head, looking at the one glass of wine on the coffee table next to an ashtray with the remainder of a joint in it. “Stiles…” He scrubs his hand through hair and says, “Stiles, I don’t want to be judgmental, you’re an adult, but my god, son, this is so wrong.”

“What? It’s just a little dope, Dad, and it’s legal in California!”

Shutting his eyes he points towards Peter and says, “That. That is… the reason it’s illegal Stiles is because an animal cannot consent. I understand you’re lonely, but my god, boy, get a dating app!”

Peter and Stiles look at each other and then Peter gets what can only be called an evil grin on his face. He lopes over to Stiles and shoves his nose into Stiles’ crotch, sniffing him through the comforter he’s wrapped in.

“Stop it, Peter, now’s not the time.” Stiles shoves him off and turns to his dad, saying, “Really, you can’t be serious, Dad, it’s not like that at all, I mean…”

This would probably be taken better if just then Stiles’ ‘Hot and Heavy Romance Mix’ didn’t start playing ‘Between the Sheets’ and Peter didn’t choose just then to flop in front of the fire and roll belly up, showing how he’s obviously not neutered.

“You! You stop that!” Stiles yells at Peter and quickly switches off the music. “Honestly, Dad, please stop thinking whatever sick shit you’re thinking. I mean, I didn’t tell you this, but… yeah, I’m dating a werewolf.”

He points at Peter who yawns and sits up and starts to scratch his ear with his back foot, the way all fierce werewolves do.

“Come on, Peter, shift. I mean embarrassing, but better than my dad thinking…”

Noah looks at Stiles and then back to Peter who’s back to lying down, chewing on his front paw. “I think your boyfriend may have fleas, Stiles. And you know what they say, about when you lie down with dogs.”

“Does he look like a dog? I mean, he’s huge! How would that even work?” Stiles shakes his head and mutters, “No, don’t answer that.”

“I don’t want to arrest you or anything like that, technically it’s a misdemeanor and I’m more interested in helping that animal and helping you. You need help, Stiles. That’s… that’s just not right, son,” Noah says, shaking his head sadly. “I can take him – Peter, you said? – back with me tonight and figure out how to get him adopted by someone who will treat him properly. And, I don’t know, maybe we can find someone online who can help you with your, your problem.”

“Dad! My only problem is my boyfriend is kind of an asshole!”

“I resent that, Stiles,” Peter says, pulling a shirt over his head. It kind of matches the sweats he’s wearing and completely clashes with the self-satisfied smirk on his face. “I’m not kind of an asshole; I’m a complete asshole. Oh and so’s your father.”

“Man, we had you on that one, son,” Noah says, reaching forward, but then pulling back. “I’d give you a hug or scruff or something, but for god’s sake, take a shower and open a damn window.”

“You! You both!” Stiles wails, turning between one man and the other. “You’re both horrible! And Dad, you know, obviously, about werewolves. And about Peter?”

“Obviously. For god’s sake, Stiles, you were raised in Beacon Hills,” Noah says, dryly, moving into the kitchen and opening the fridge. “You have food in here. Like an adult. I guess that’s a benefit to dating a man old enough to be your father. I expect breakfast for this.”

“That’s kind of why I didn’t want to tell you,” Stiles mutters, wrapping the blanket more securely around him. He switches off the fireplace and opens a window, letting in cool February air. “But you know, so, umm. Hey, Dad, I’m dating Peter Hale! He’s kinda older than me and he’s a werewolf. And an asshole.”

Peter pulls a carton of eggs and pound of bacon out of the fridge and takes the pan Noah hands him. “Thankfully, it seems I fit right in. Go get dressed and make coffee.”

“Take a shower!” Noah yells after him.

Stiles stomps out of the room with as much dignity as his blanket-toga will allow. “I hate you both.”


	30. Jo and Allison - Femslash February

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I want to read a fic with Jo Harvelle of Supernatural and Allison Argent of Teen Wolf…
> 
> It's kinda like this, but I'm not a great porn writer and I want to read it not write it!

Jo’s driving back after a hunt with Dean, Sam and of course Cas and they took off for the bunker and Jo’s going to touch base with the Argent family in California. She’s met them before and it’ll be nice to see another small family, especially one she knows keeps to the code. Sometimes, trying to convince Dean, they can’t just kill everything, every time is tiring. Wendigos, yeah, you gotta kill, but not  _everything._  Or else maybe they’d have tried to kill his boyfriend. 

Anyway, she stops and Chris and Allison are glad to see her, making dinner and having some wine that’s probably really good, but she’s more a beer drinker, thanks. 

The next day, after a good night’s sleep, she and Allison walk through the preserve, talking about the job and strategies. Allison swears by her bow and arrows and Jo’s seen her use them and knows for her they’re lethal. 

She says she’s a gun girl - rifle actually - through and through, unless there’s a need for hand-to-hand contact and she’s pretty comfortable with that, too.

Allison suggests they have a friendly match, just to see if there’s anything else to learn from each other and, hey, it could be fun too. So they tussle a bit, each getting in some good moves until they’re both on the ground, Allison holding Jo down.  “You know, this is totally some guy’s fantasy here,” she says and grins. 

“I was just thinking how Dean would subscribe on pay-per-view.” Jo tests Allison’s grip a little, squirming slightly under her. “You’re stronger than you look.”

“So are you, for a pretty little blonde thing,” Allison answers, chuckling quietly. “I could let you up, if you want.”

“Do I have to ask nicely?” Jo asks, and takes teh second Allison relaxes to flip them over, so she’s on top, holding down Allison shin-to-shoulder. “Pleeeeease?” she says, and smiles down.

Allison raises an eyebrow, freeing a leg to wrap around Jo’s. “You’re assuming I want up.”

Jo’s eyes get wide and before she can say anything, Allison frees a hand, and wraps her arm around Jo’s shoulder, pulling her closer and kissing her. At first, Jo pulls away and Allison relaxes, giving her space to move completely away, then Jo kisses her back, tilting her face so their lips line up perfectly, sucking Ally’s lip in between her teeth. Allison wraps her leg around Jo’s, grinding against her, feeling Jo push back. 

They separate, breathing heavily and Jo rolls off, staring at the sky. Allison rolls on her side, looking at Jo’s profile, her flushed face and pink, wet lips. She moves slowly, giving Jo plenty of time to move away, dragging the back of her fingers over Jo’s cheek and just one knuckle over her lower lip. “I’ll apologize if you want me to. We can pretend this never happened.”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Jo says, and her eyes flash like she’s a werewolf herself. “The only thing to apologize for is how long it’s going to take to get back to your room.”

Allison smiles and leans forward, kissing the corner of Jo’s mouth and then down to that soft spot just below her ear. “We could stay here…”

“I’m not  _that_ country,” Jo says, turning her head, catching Allison’s mouth with her own. “And I don’t want bug bites where I can’t itch. The sooner we’re up, the sooner … well, whatever.”

“Whatever,” Allison says, standing quickly and pulling Jo up next to her. “We’ll see how many times I can make you come.”

Jo’s eyes go wide, but otherwise, she’s cool and calm. “You’re strangely competitive. But okay, winner, obviously, takes all,” she says. And then starts running back towards the house. 


	31. Alliances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I got kind of obsessed thinking about full shift Peter doing wolfy-animal things and Stiles finding it weird. But kinda hot.

So so so it’s been painful, but after a week, they’ve got a formal alliance with the Juarez pack.

“Congratulations, Alpha. You spoke like an actual adult and got everything nailed down.” Stiles holds out his bottle of beer in a salute, looking at everyone relaxing in the living room of the pack house. “We’re all proud of you.”

Derek’s smile is shy but pleased and he says, “Thank you, Stiles. And thank you for not doing anything too stupid to fuck it up.”

“Hey, rude! I did a good job, so congrats to the emissary, too!” he says, holding out his bottle again.

Erica holds out her glass as she leans forward grabbing a slice of pizza. “Yeah, you did okay, kid. I guess we all did, we got the treaty.”

“Not just a treaty, an actual alliance. That’s better, that means an attack on us is an attack on them as well,” Peter explains. He’s sitting in the chair he claimed, a good place to watch everyone, and more comfortable than a metal staircase. “And with the alliances the Juarez’ have, that connects to us as well. We’ll still have to meet and formalize things, but this almost guarantees alliances.”

“Are they all able to do that full shift thing into a wolf?” Isaac asks, looking from Peter to Derek. “That’s so cool, I wish we could do that.”

“It’s a born wolf thing, as far as I know. I’ve never heard of a bitten wolf able to, but maybe. And yes,” Peter continues, “we’ll certainly meet other born wolves who can shift.”

Stiles covers his grin with his hand. “Man, I can’t believe that you just shoved your nose in that other wolf’s ass. With like no qualms at all. Like, ‘Hey, how you doing, how’s your ass?’”

Peter raises an eyebrow, sighing in disappointment. “To do otherwise would be offensive, you should know that, Emissary Stilinski.”

“Yeah, sure, but it’s just…I guess I’m just thinking of you now as a person and it just doesn’t fit.”

“Well I don’t normally say hello with my face in someone’s ass, but as you said, I have no qualms at all putting my face in someone’s ass if it’s someone I’m interested in.” Peter pulls a piece of pepperoni off a slice of pizza and covers his own smile by popping it in his mouth, licking off his fingers afterwards.

Stiles’ jaw drops and his eyes go wide as he shifts in his seat.

“Jesus Christ, Stiles!” Liam pinches his nose shut, grabbing Isaac’s arm and heading for the door. “My eyes are burning!”

Isaac nods, gesturing for Scott to follow. “Really, Stiles, you’re just gross.”

“Dude,” he says, shaking his head, following the group leaving the house. “Dude.”

Derek throws open the windows before he stalks out the front door, chasing out the rest of the pack in front of him. “Not down here, please; you have a room, Peter, use it.”

The wolf leans back, letting his eyes fall shut as he breaths in. “So, Stiles… should I be interested?”

After staring for a minute, Stiles jumps up and grabs Peter’s arm, pulling him towards the stairs. “Hell, yeah, I’m very interested in an alliance!”

 


End file.
